


What Comes After

by AphroditeB00w



Series: Expectations [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Domestic, Established Relationship, Graduation, High School, Love, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Re-Education, Romance, Secret Relationship, True Love, finding out]being caught, harry potter in mundane world, non-magic au, pain and suffering, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 61,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10979301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditeB00w/pseuds/AphroditeB00w
Summary: This is the continuation of the story I started with Expectations, because I couldn't just leave it there.Draco and Harry are together, but still a well-kept secret. Unfortunately, the pressure starts to build...can they last it?





	1. Chapter 1

**_ Harry _ **

It was the last day of summer holidays and Harry was already packed. He was beyond eager to leave the Dursley’s forever. The same lawyer who had contacted him before, came again that summer. His blunt, overly friendly manner still scandalised his aunt and uncle and Harry felt it was worth the visit just for that. But he had come to tell Harry that now that he was turning eighteen years old, he would inherit his family’s property too, which included a small house in a town about three hours away as well as a flat in the middle of the city. He saw Vernon turn purple with the thought of how much wealthier Harry was now, and interspersed his low insults with obsequious politeness, as if the combination might weaken Harry enough to hand over all his money to the asshole. It didn’t matter, since Harry planned on moving out as soon as he could. In fact, this night would be his last time ever staying with these horrible people. Not that this summer had particularly awful, even before they had found out he was essentially ‘rich’.

Yes, soon his final year would start. But by the first holiday break, he would be eighteen. And by tomorrow afternoon, he would be seeing Draco again.

They had decided that exchanging emails was worth the risk, as long as they were careful. They both created new user accounts on servers that weren’t well known, and wrote to each other using nicknames, which were thumb-sucked in the moment and thus couldn’t be linked back to them. Draco was ‘Slink’ and Harry became ‘Etch’. They meant nothing, but he loved writing those names nonetheless. It was something between them that was theirs, untouched by outside parties. They wrote back and forth plenty over the summer, which seemed the longest it had ever been. They told each other about their days, about family, about the dull ways they tried to pass the time. Harry hadn’t told him about the fact that he was moving out however; he wanted to keep it for when he could see him face to face. Part of him was hoping that Draco would see it the way _he_ did, which perhaps an opportunity for them to have more privacy, without the threat of being discovered.

Harry idly imagined what it might be like, to simply wake up next to each, without checking the door, to walk about uncaring if anyone saw them, make breakfast together, kissing and touching wherever they wanted… he wiled away his final hours imagining the happy prospect.

 

**_ Draco _ **

 

Draco was impatiently shepherding first years into the car at the front of the train that would take them to school. In his final year he had been made head house prefect (predictably) and with the tile came a private cottage on the school grounds. His elevated status meant that his bags were already whisked away in the prefect’s car and it also meant that he didn’t actually have to do first year duty, but it was an excuse to keep his eyes on the platform, for no particular reason and not looking for anyone in particular.

The he caught a glimpse of really unruly dark hair. Harry was laughing at something his red head friend was saying, who was gesticulating wildly with his arms, obviously in the midst of some story telling. Draco was secretly glad he saw him first, because at least he could compose himself, although he was sure no one would have seen him twitch slightly in that second. But then Harry turned and glanced at him from the corner of his eye, still grinning, and Draco felt a shock go through him.

 _Bastard_ , Draco thought, _he did see me first_.

Harry looked smug, and followed his friends onto the 7th year car.

“For goodness sake, stop dawdling and get on the bloody train.” Draco snapped at a first year, suddenly impatient to have this done. The poor boy scurried off, nearly tripping as he stepped on the elevated platform. Once they were all finally boarded, he walked away, striving to slow his pace to a normal walk. The prefect’s car was adjacent, connected to the 7th year one with a food and baggage car, but it was only halfway through the journey that Harry met him there.

The train rumbled along its track, making everyone jostle against one another, banging elbows and hips as students strained to get to the tuck shop counter. Draco stepped inside and immediately found Harry with a glance. Ignoring him completely, he went to pour himself coffee into a disposable cup at the drinks station, which was situated separately from the tuck shop and thus away from the writhing crowd. He felt a movement behind him, but didn’t turn.

“Baggage car, ten minutes.” Harry said low and the sound pooled directly into his abdomen, but he gave no sign he had heard.

He was in the baggage cart five minutes later though. As he stepped quietly through the door to the darker room and closed it behind him, making sure he wasn’t followed, and felt hands wrap around his waist from behind.

He dimly reflected that Harry must have grown over the holidays, because now he could lean down from behind Draco to bite his neck. Draco shuddered involuntarily and closed his eyes. His hands came to rest on Harry’s which held his hips firmly and he pulled him backwards and away from the door into a darker place.

“Hmmm, miss me?” he purred. And turned around in his boyfriends arms.

Harry eyes had lost its usual merriment and Draco went slightly breathless at the raw lustful look Harry shot him before lunging at his mouth. Harry’s kiss was crushing and hungry and Draco could barely keep up with its demanding nature.

“So, that’s a yes, then?” he said, when Harry moved down to bite at his neck again.

Harry growled something that sounded like ‘yes’ while his hands roamed over Draco’s back under his shirt. Draco was fast losing coherent thought, so he pushed Harry away before it was gone altogether.

“Harry, not that I’m not flattered, but were in the _baggage cart._ Anyone can walk in.” he tried to be reasonable in face of Harry obvious frustration.

Harry reluctantly let go with a huge sigh and Draco felt remorse. Harry was clearly trying to master himself.

“I know, you’re right.” He answered, “I just- I really missed you. Emails don’t really cover it.” He smiled then, and Draco saw more than mere lust there, but a genuine joy at being with him. He felt a warm smile appear on his face. Harry had sat down on a baggage crate and his hands now hung loosely over his legs, and his head tilted in just such a way… Draco felt breathless all over again. The summer had been _too long_.

He moved slowly between Harry’s open legs until he nudged his crotch with his thigh. Harry caught his breath.

“Fuck, Draco, if you’re worried about someone walking in on us…” he started, but Draco hushed him with a kiss of his own. Not hungry, but one to convey just how much he adored this dark haired boy in front of him, and he nudged harder with his thigh. In response Harry pushed himself closer eagerly.

“I missed you, too.” He said softly, and he let one hand pull through the coarse hair on his head while the other trailed downwards and began to rub at the tightened cloth over his crotch. Harry gasped.

“Draco,” he said in a strangled voice. “What am I supposed to do about the mess?”

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Harry’s face showed his shock, then quickly dissolved once again into bliss as Draco pushed harder against his hardening cock. “Bastard.” Harry groaned with feeling, but Draco saw he wasn’t planning on fighting.

Draco grinned and kissed him again.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final year has started and they can't wait to get their hands on each other.

**_ Harry _ **

**__ **

Harry had tied his jumper around his waist. When Hermione asked why, he said he was hot, and she looked at him like he was an idiot. He sighed but went to get his luggage quickly, not willing to go into it, and annoyed that he had to find a way to cover the stain on his crotch. Except he wasn’t _completely_ annoyed.

“Ooof, aren’t first years supposed to carry our bags or something?” complained Ronald as they exited the train and began the half kilometre walk up to the school grounds. His bags were slightly larger than Harry’s and had no wheels, so he huffed as he half dragged, half carried them.

“Hmm?” Harry replied, not really paying attention. He was trying to see if he could catch a sight of Draco before they headed in. Maybe so he could punch him.

“Hello? Harry Potter in there at all?” Ronald said, waving his hand in front of his face.

“Sorry. Was looking for…” Harry began but tapered off awkwardly. Hermione pushed up next to him.

“No, Ronald, first years only carry bags for Prefects.” She answered for him. As she was widely known to be the most accomplished academic student in their house, she was obviously a prefect, and thus didn’t have any bags. Ronald scowled.

“Lucky you, then.” He humphed, hoisting his bag up to a less difficult position under his arm. Though Ronald was easily as capable as Harry, he was very much lazier. And at least his bags had wheels so he could pull them along.

“Harry, you have been distracted though. You all right?” Hermione piped up.

“Um…” Harry said, suddenly feeling sweaty.

“Oooh, is it a girl?” Ronald answered for him with a leery waggle of his eyebrow.

“Oh of course! Harry why didn’t you say? Or is it a secret?” Hermione chimed in.

“Uh...”

“Oh wait, it is a secret isn’t it?” she answered herself.

“What? We’re his best mates! Why shouldn’t we know?” Ronald demanded.

“Just because were his mates doesn’t mean he has to tell us everything.”

“Yes it does! I tell you lot everything. I’m an open book.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “One with large print letters and primary colours.”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“It means, Ronald, that you _can’t_ keep a secret.”

“I can keep secrets!” he said, stung.

“Really now. Like what?” she rolled her eyes again.

“Like the fact that Harry made cricket Captain this year…”

Hermione looked at his her eyes surprised. “You did? Harry that’s great!”

Harry looked sideways at Ronald. “Point proven, mate.”

Ronald realised what he had done and closed his mouth with a snap.

“Sorry.” He said, looking put out and slightly embarrassed.

“No problem. Not like it would have been secret for long anyway.” He replied, and Ronald sagged with relief.

Hermione tilted her head in that way both he and Ronald knew so well, and grinned a told-you-so smile. Ronald’s scowl returned.

“Look, Harry just said it wasn’t that much of a secret, so I don’t see how-“he began again, refusing to let Hermione have the upper hand, which she inevitably would. Harry let them get on with it. It had never been otherwise, the two of them bickered like an old couple. He knew that they had stolen a few snogs here and there, but it seemed only to confuse things. He sighed and followed them in, glad the subject matter had progressed at least.

He turned his mind back to Draco, and how he was going to return the favour on the train…

 

**_ Draco _ **

The new school year wasted no time. Every 7th year was stacked with a workload that left many of them bemoaning their lot. Draco remained silent as always, but inwardly groaned. He not only had the allotted amount of work for his final year, but the added requirements of every one of his additional subjects. The sheer amount of textbooks he now required would have taken up three shelves on his bookshelf, if he hadn’t downloaded them onto his tablet. He kept only the most important ones in actual book form.

 Luckily, the small cottage his new head prefect status afforded him gave him plenty of unnecessary shelf space. In fact, the cottage was pleasant, he was surprised to see. He had suspected he would still need to bring some of his own personal touches to the room himself, but it was well enough laid out. It was a furnished two room affair. The front door opened onto the lounge/kitchen and another door led into a smaller bedroom with a single bed and walk in bathroom. Basic, but cosy. Draco didn’t think he had ever even used that word before now. He was allowed to bring his personal affects to make the space his own, and thankfully Eustace had anticipated this and already done so by some butler machination of his own. The bed spread was his own and the small kitchenette was already stacked with his favourite snacks, teas and some coffee. A brief search through the kitchen drawers produced a small medi-kit with head-ache tablets, some basic cold medication and (he blushed) condoms. He closed the draw and decided not to think about it.

His school texts were already stacked neatly on a bookshelf in the lounge area, as well as some personal books from his own library. Poetry mostly, classics, first editions. A picture hung on the wall of some indeterminate beach with waves calmly lapping at the shore; that had obviously been here already. Draco looked around and felt…satisfied. He had never had his own space before. His room at the manor was bigger than this cottage, but it felt easier to breathe here than it ever did there. He looked at the small two seater, tartan couch, which was likely a decade old, and suddenly he saw there in his mind’s eye Harry, sitting with his legs up on the scratched coffee table and hands folded behind his head, grinning at him. The image…fit, and left him with a warm feeling in the base of his spine.

Then he wondered how long it would be before Harry could sneak down to visit him.

Then he remembered all his homework, and reluctantly pushed the thought from his mind, retreating to the small counter table where he supposed he would do his work from now on.

The hour was late and Draco was still up. He had finished his work but was cross referencing an essay when a small knock came at the door. He glanced at the clock; 11:25pm. Feeling vaguely annoyed, he got up and walked to the door. There were duties as head prefect however, and that did mean that in an emergency, he was his houses first contact, before teachers. He had just hoped the emergencies would wait a week at least.

He stopped at the door and spoke through it.

“It’s late. What do you want?” he demanded.

“It’s me, you prick. Let me in!” answered a familiar voice. Draco quickly unlocked the door, and swung it open, mouth agape. “Harry!”

Harry slunk in quickly, not giving Draco the chance to say no, and closed it behind him with a soft click.

“Hello.” Harry turned to him, smiling.

Draco was still shocked, but recovering. “Harry, how did you even know this was my house?”

Harry looked to the ceiling and counted on his fingers. “Firstly, it has your house insignia on the front door. Second, I found out from Hermione who knows all the house prefects and where they stayed.” He finished and winked. Draco was still staring at him. When he didn’t speak Harry look of happy mischief faded from his face. “Draco, I thought….should I rather not have come?”

Draco snapped back into the moment. “No, Harry, of course you should have. Sorry.” Draco answered, running a hand through his hair. Harry looked uncertain still and it was so adorable Draco really did smile this time. “I’m glad you’re here.” Harry relaxed then, and leaned in to kiss him, which Draco returned willingly.

Draco made them both tea, and they say across from each other on the couch, and Draco was still drinking in the sight of him. He was out of his school uniform, instead wearing a t-shirt which fitted his sturdy form quite nicely, and jeans which Draco was pleased to notice were of a higher quality than he usually saw him in. He must have made some sort of stamp on him after all, he thought smugly. _About bloody time_.

“I was still trying to think about how to get you here circumspectly.” Draco spoke idly, finding himself utterly relaxed for the first time since arriving at the school gates that day.

Harry’s eyes twinkled “Well, you must have forgotten that that is pretty much what I’ve been doing since first year.” He answered.

“Obviously.” Draco agreed drily, sipping his tea. Harry tasted his, and after a pause, made _not_ - _bad_ face. 

Draco chuckled. “I suppose that counts as approval.”

Harry gestured to his cup. “Well, its _tea_.”

“Tea is not your thing?” he asked innocently, as if he didn’t already know. He knew Harry was only being polite.

Harry shook his head but took another sip. “No, it’s my boyfriend’s thing.” He said quietly, deliberately. And by small smirk on Harry’s face, he had used that word as much for his own pleasure at its sound as Draco’s. It sounded so wonderfully _possessive_.

Draco carefully put his cup down on the table, and Harry did the same before stretching his arms tight and cracking his neck muscles. _The utter bastard_ , thought Draco. The effect the dark haired boy had on him was magnetic and spell-binding. He watched Harry’s shirt ride up, exposing part of his midriff, and the flat hard muscles there. When his arms settled behind his head, the strong biceps ever so slightly stretching his shirt sleeves, the thin fabric of which outlining their shape. Draco’s eyes followed the movement, and when saw Harry watching him watching him, he blushed.

“Is that so?” Draco said in a heavily affected drawl.

Harry tilted his head just so. “Yeah. Bit of a ponce, but he has good taste. He even gives me advice on my wardrobe. He helped me choose this shirt too. You like it?”

Draco took the opportunity to escape, not eager to end the flirtation quite yet. It would not be seemly to appear desperate after all, even if his body cried otherwise. “Speaking of personal grooming. I have your birthday gift. Would you like to see it?” he walked to his room as he said it, not waiting for an answer. He returned quickly with a small box, closed with a silver ribbon. Harry took it suspiciously, and looked at Draco beneath his lashes before opening it, as if to say, _two can play this game._

He slowly pulled off the ribbon and Draco bit his lip with impatience, crossing his arms as he stood in front of Harry. Harry opened the box and to his relief, burst out laughing. Inside the box lay a silver backed hair brush.

“You are never going to let it go are you?” he said taking the brush out of the box. Mirth was clear on his face.

Draco, relaxing slightly, sank back down again onto the couch. “Hope springs eternal.”

Harry experimented with the brush, pulling it through his hair, which fought back, and ended up sticking up in odd places. Draco didn’t think he would ever love something so stubbornly _untidy_.

“Money well spent, then.” He laughed.

Harry put the brush away and closed the box. “Nah, it’s perfect.” He looked at Draco and said with utter sincerity, “Thank you, Draco.”

 _Alright. I’m done._ Draco thought and leaned forward. Harry met him halfway, and Draco quickly moved to straddle across his lap so that they could deepen the kiss. Harry’s hands rested easily on his hips and pulled him close, curling round his backside and holding firm. There was none of the frenetic sense of _need_ they had both experienced on the train. Now it was a far more simple feeling, something almost comforting.

 _Like coming home_. Draco thought, and then wondered where that had come from.

Draco slowed and pulled away, looking at Harry, then he wrapped his arms about his neck held him, because it felt right. Harry let his arms weave about his waist and he felt him breathe in a huge breath and sigh it out contentedly. It felt good.

“It’s going to both interesting and frustrating, the fact you will be staying here this year.” Harry mumbled into his chest. Draco’s fingers toyed idly with a lock of his hair.

“I suppose.” He sighed. As ever, the charade they played grated on him. “Harry, I have something I wanted to tell you.”

Harry looked up at him, and Draco took the opportunity to kiss him. “Me too.” Said Harry, and some glint in his eye nudged Draco’s curiosity.

“You do?” he inquired, his own agenda forgotten. Harry looked excited in a childlike way.

“Yes.” Harry replied shifting as he did. “Good lord, Draco, how can such a skinny bloke be so heavy?”

Draco chuckled. “You weren’t complaining earlier.”

“That,” Harry responded with mock sternness, “was very different.”

Draco slid off to the side and arranged himself so that his legs lay over Harry’s while his back rested against the couch arm. “So it was. You may continue.” He said imperiously and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well, it seems that now that I’m a _man_ ,” he winked as he said it. “I have inherited my parent’s property as well as their money.”

Draco’s head lifted from his hand. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Apparently it’s a house in some small village about three hours away, called Hexway, and a flat in the city centre.” Harry looked excited as he told him this, and for a moment Draco just enjoyed him being there, him being Harry. He hadn’t realised just how much the separation had taxed him, how much had really just _missed_ him. Harry went on though, oblivious to Draco’s contentment.

“So I’m moving out. I’ve decided to go live in Hexway.” Harry finished, and he began to fidget with the cuff of Draco’s trousers. Draco recognised the sign of nervousness and became curious again.

“Harry, I am happy for you, truly. The Dursley’s must be ecstatic.” He commented sarcastically, watching his lover closely now.

“Heh. Oh yes. My uncle was practically frothing at the mouth when he figured out I’d been rich this whole time. I don’t think they’ve ever been so nice to anyone in their whole lives.” He snickered. “But I’m done. All my stuff is here, in my dorm. As soon as holidays come round, I’m going to go and move in. The lawyer gave me the keys already.” Harry seemed excited but still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“How will you get there?” Draco asked.

He shrugged. “By bus I suppose.”

Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly, he had so much money the bank sent him letters constantly, trying to lure him into investments opportunities and charities and the like yet he didn’t even think about calling a taxi service which would be infinitely more comfortable than a  three hour trip on a public bus, for god’s sake. “Harry, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drive you.” He said lightly.

Harry did sneak a look at his then. “Drive me?”

“Yes. I have a brand new, over-priced Lexus that is begging for a long stretch of road after all. My father would be happy if I finally drove It.” he smiled and Harry smiled back but went back to folding and unfolding the pleats in Draco’s trousers. Draco wriggled his feet. “You could massage them you know. Been a long day.”

Harry snorted, “Fat chance. Don’t you have terrified first years to do that for you?”

Draco sighed melodramatically. “But their hands are so _small_.”

Harry laughed at the joke but looked away and Draco became irritated and also slightly worried. “Harry, just spit it out.”

Harry sighed and sat up straight, obviously realising Draco could read him by now. “Well, I thought that, you know, since I would be living on my own now, you could maybe…” Harry ran a hand through his hair in his trademark fashion. “Come and…visit?” he ended off. He was blushing.

Draco bit his lip to keep from smiling so wide his face would fall off. Harry was nervous because he wanted him to come and stay with him. He had probably been rehearsing this since he found out. And here he was now, so awkward and adorable Draco could barely contain his glee. He tried, but couldn’t quite stifle a chuckle. Harry heard it and his blush deepened and he looked mulish.

“This is not how I thought this conversation would go.” He said in an angry tone and moved Draco’s legs so he could stand. Draco grabbed him before he could get far, dragging him back onto the couch and straddled him once more.

“I will drive you. I will help you move in. I will help you clean up cobwebs and dust. I will help you buy furniture that isn’t tasteless and inferior quality. And, if possible, I will stay over.” He whispered in Harry’s ear.

Harry’s face still held the shadow of his scowl. “Well, I wasn’t saying you had to do all that.”

“I would like to though.” Draco responded.

Harry paused, “Well, if you insist. But I really don’t know what state it’s in. It could be a rundown piece of shite for all I know. The flat has been rented out this whole time, which brings in a fair amount of cash apparently.”

“It would.“ Agreed Draco, running his hands over the buttons on Harry’s shirt. Property had value. And value was something Malfoys understood very well.

“But the house has been empty. I hadn’t even heard of the town before.”

Draco nodded. “I’ve heard of it. It’s small. It used to be a village but has grown enough to be called a town. It even has a post office.”

Harry leaned his head back, while his hands began tracing idle circles on Draco’s thighs. “I should’ve known you would know.”

“If you like, we can try and find out some more about the place, before you go? Find out its worth, how long it’s been there, pictures…that sort of thing.” Draco’s hands were slowly unbuttoning Harry’s shirt.

“Maybe, that would be good…helpful.” murmured, his eyes beginning to glaze over. His hands roved more hungrily over Draco’s legs now, once again moving to cup his backside, and Draco relished the delicious feeling his fingers created through the fabric of his trousers.

Draco breathed in through his nose and closed his eyes. “I can be helpful.”

“You were certainly very helpful on the train.” Harry said into his neck as he leaned close. Draco’s skin came up in goose bumps where his breath touched it.

“Hmmm” Draco was beyond words now.

“I still owe you for that.” Harry’s hands had untucked his shirt and now ran over the skin of his back. Draco arched, which brought their crotches into close contact, and it felt amazing and hot. Then his hands moved and touched Draco’s shirt buttons delicately, before he looked up at Draco’s face and whispered, “Pay back.”

He bunched up the material in his fist and yanked hard. Buttons flew everywhere, one of them even pinging off the window


	3. 3

**_ Harry _ **

**__ **

Harry walked through the school hallways the following week with a swing in his step, whistling a nameless tune. He felt grand. As far as he was concerned, his last year of school had gotten off to fantastic start. He was up to date with his homework (probably the only time ever, but he may as well enjoy it), his first practice as team captain had gone well, and he was snogging his boyfriend again. The fact that he had a black eye from where Draco’s fist had landed when he had utterly ruined his shirt, did not dampen his mood at all.

It had bloody hurt, but the aftermath was sweet. In spite of his fury, Draco had fetched some ice, wrapped it in a dishcloth and held it over his swelling eye. With his remaining good eye, he gazed at Draco. He hadn’t really been sure how Draco would react, but it was too good a moment to pass up. It had obviously landed him in trouble, but Harry couldn’t help but appreciate the fine form of his lover, still fuming, shirt now gaping open to reveal his unearthly alabaster skin, his trousers draping low over hips. He was a stunning picture, and Harry actually felt a possessive pride when he took it in.

He had touched the lump on his face and quickly withdrew, hissing in pain.

“Don’t touch it, Potter.” Draco had snapped, forcing ice into his hand instead.

“You have quite the right hook.” Harry said, hoping to convey some remorse. He failed. His boyfriend had hit him, floored him actually. It was sexy, in a twisted way.

Draco practically spat. “Just because I don’t go traipsing through the _dirt and mud_ of a sports field, doesn’t mean I’m a push over.”

 _Which is exactly why it’s so sexy_. “Where did you learn that?” he asked.

Draco’s face was like an angry angel. “I took four years of mixed martial arts.”

Harry’s let his surprise show. He obviously still had things to learn about his lover. “Wow. You must have been quite the student.” He said, hoping to gain some favour by pumping is ego. And he meant it.

“I was.” Draco sighed, stating it matter-of-factly.

Harry held up his free hand in surrender. “You must be really pissed if you’re calling me Potter.” He slowly lowered his hand to Draco’s belt. When Draco tried to pull away, he held on.

“Slink, forgive me?” he said so quietly, lowering his eyes in such a way as to seem sorry. Draco wasn’t fooled but he was softening. “Please?”

“You owe me a fucking shirt.” Draco answered, but the bite was gone. Harry pulled him close using his belt buckle.

The rest of the evening had improved. So he didn’t care that he had a black eye. All’s fair, in love and war and all that. But it was only a few days later, when he was already imagining them taking their trip together to his new home, that Draco had never told him what he wanted to speak about. He wrote a quick email on his phone;

_Slink,_

_What did you want to talk about?_

_Etch_

It wasn’t until after school had finished, and he was coaching the first team that his phone pinged a reply. He carefully slid it out of his pocket and read it, as phones weren’t actually allowed outside their dorm rooms. He was cricket captain, but he didn’t want to push it.

_Etch,_

_Meet me in the cottage tonight._

_Slink_

Harry sighed. Clearly Draco had been in a hurry, usually his messages were a bit more verbose. But still, there was anticipation of seeing him later. It was nearly a week since the shirt incident. Harry licked his lips at the memory.

Such was the busy schedule of their school lives that they barely saw each other. Even if they hadn’t been public enemies, they would have had little time for normal every day relations. The work load was punishing and the pace was brutal. Everyone in their year had their nose deep in a book or study most of the time, and revelry and relaxation were at an all-time low. Ronald bemoaned their lot, while Hermione clicked her tongue at him and carried on as usual. Which wasn’t truly surprising for her, since she had always been the busiest of them, always taking on extra credit assignments and extra subjects.

 It happened to be how he knew that Draco took almost all the same advanced classes she did. It had surprised him, as Draco had never told him himself. It also let him see the blonde with new eyes. He had known Draco was intellectual, but the extent of which he hadn’t really had a clue. But according to Hermione, Draco was as accomplished, if not more so in some areas, than she was. It confused Harry. He hadn’t expected Draco to brag as it wasn’t like him. But was Draco hiding the fact? Or was it simply a non-issue? And how the hell did he still find the time to help Harry with his homework after all that?

Again, Harry was impressed and proud. Not only was his boyfriend sexy as fuck and strong enough to floor him, but he was clever too. Pity that no one knew.

He pushed the thought away before it could bother him. The last thing Harry wanted was a repeat of the year prior, where he had spent three miserable weeks alone, post Draco. It had been agonising, and Harry preferred a secret love affair to none at all. It had to be enough.

So that night, after finishing a fair chunk of his homework, he once again snuck out the dormitory. It helped that his new room as a 7th year captain was right next to the stair case the rear end of the dorm room passage way. Sneaking out unseen was extremely easy. He just had to be careful about walking over the grounds to the head prefect houses, which were in the open, and fairly close to the teacher’s residences.

He was looking over his shoulder when he bumped into someone coming down the same path to the prefect houses. He jumped back, already forming some excuse when he stopped.

“Ronald?” he gawked.

The redhead boy looked as shocked as he was. “Harry?”

“What are you doing here?” they both asked at once.

Harry pointed his finger at his best friend. “You first.”

Ronald immediately turned red. The effect was impressive, though Harry had seen it before. The redness of his cheeks clashed horribly with his red hair as he stuttered. Ronald was a terrible liar, and suddenly Harry put it together. A knowing smirk grew on his face.

“You’re going to see Hermione, aren’t you?” Harry teased.

Ronald turned even redder, if that were possible. “No, I’m-it’s about prefect stuff…”

“Liar.”

Ronald was so flustered at this point he put a hand out onto his friend’s shoulder, to calm him down. “Geez Ronald, relax. It’s no big secret after all.” He wondered if Ronald got the joke. “Just go already, before one of the teachers catch you.”

Ronald looked hesitant, then relieved. “Thanks mate.” He said as he turned around and carried on down the path at a quick pace, completely forgetting that Harry was also out when he shouldn’t be. Harry made haste and no sooner had he arrived at Draco’s door that it opened and he was yanked inside.

“Who was that?” Draco demanded.

“Hello to you too.” Harry said readjusting his shirt.

“Hello, _darling_ ,” Draco snarled, “Who was that?”

Harry sighed, thinking Draco was worried someone had caught him. “It was just Ron. He’s off to see Hermione, probably for much the same reasons as I’m here to see you now.” He said pointedly.

Draco visibly relaxed. “Oh, just the redhead.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirked.

“Hang on, were you jealous just now?” Harry couldn’t keep the delight out of his voice.

Draco flushed and refused to look at him, instead moving passed him to the kitchenette. Harry decided not to pursue it, in case Draco was still in a snit about the shirt.

“So, do I get tea?” he asked. Draco humphed.

“You don’t deserve tea.” He replied, but he still took out two cups and put the kettle on to boil. Harry admired him from behind the counter. He was still wearing his school uniform, but the collar and tie were undone and blazer discarded. He looked dishevelled. Harry finally got why women’s magazines had adverts in them that always featured handsome looking men interrupted in the process of undressing.

But Harry’s eyes also took in the unusual level of mess in the small house. Notes lay piled on every surface, textbooks lay open and his laptop screen was glowing. There was even a dirty teacup and left over sandwich crust on the coffee table, sitting atop some more notes. The place reminded him of his own room, and that was enough to see that something was off. Draco saw him looking around and sighed, sounding worn.

“I apologise, I haven’t really had time to clean up.” He said gesturing to the mess, which meant his arm indicated the entire room.

Harry came around the other side of the table to join him. He let his arms do what they had been wanting to do all week, which was wrap around his lover. Draco, unusually, didn’t resist even a little. He let himself be drawn into Harry’s embrace and letting head tilt back to rest on his shoulder. Harry let himself just enjoy the warm feeling of his lovers body against his, him being able to hold him without reserve.

I _can hold you_ , he thought, _I can keep you safe_.

“This is very pleasant.” Draco muttered into his shoulder. Harry smiled. “It is isn’t it?”

Draco lifted his head, all traces of snit gone. Harry was just glad to be here, to be the one who got to hold him, and his face must have shown it. Draco looked tired and worn down, but he returned the smile, as if he knew everything that Harry couldn’t find a way to say out loud. For a moment he didn’t care why he had come in the first place, for this felt like more than enough reason. Then the switch on the kettle clicked and the moment passed, leaving Harry feeling like some opportunity had been missed. Draco moved to make the tea. When he slid Harry’s over to him he said “So, I found some things. About your house.”

Harry had completely forgotten Draco had offered to help with this.  But he looked around at the piles of notes and school work and felt guilty. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, Draco was still finding time to help Harry. As usual.

“You did?” he asked because it would be rude to refuse the effort after the fact.

 Draco nodded and pulled him laptop towards him. He found what he was looking for and turned it to face Harry.

“That’s your house.” He said.

It showed a picture of an old fashioned, colonial style house. It had a red slated, sloped roof and a veranda that seemed to go all around it like a skirt. It was a dark colour, probably brown, with white trim. It looked rather picturesque.

“It’s a three bedroomed house, with a decent sized garden behind it. It seems to have been looked after, but I can’t tell from the outside of course. Either way, it’s rather pretty.” Draco told him while he stared.

His parents had lived in that house. He had too, probably, until they had died when he was a year old. He couldn’t recall. And it had four rooms. Maybe they had wanted a big family…

Harry shook the thoughts away. It would have been a very different life. But it wasn’t _his_ life.

“Thanks, Draco. “He looked up. “It will be great to see it in the flesh though.”

Draco nodded but said nothing. Harry could see he was exhausted. With regret he decided to put his selfish desire aside.

“Look, I can see you’re knackered. I’ll go.” He finished the tea even though it was too hot, and made to give Draco a quick kiss, but he was caught by the shirt.

“No. Sorry look, yes I’m tired, but really, all I want is just to sit on that ugly couch with you and put your arm around me while I close my eyes for the first time this week.” Draco told him by way of explanation.

Harry felt a rush of tenderness and was happy to oblige. Any chance to touch and hold Draco was enough. He pulled Draco to the bedroom.

“Harry,” Draco began to protest but he shook his head.

“I promise, hands off. But the bed is comfier than the ugly couch.”

Draco saw the sense in that. “Fucking true.” He said with feeling.

Harry lay on the bed against the headboard and pulled Draco lie beside him, tucking an arm over his shoulder protectively. Draco arranged himself more comfortable against his side, his legs resting along his and his own arm draped over his torso that was both relaxing and possessive. Harry couldn’t help but felt his throat constrict with some huge emotion he couldn’t name. Draco just wanted him, to be with him, and it was enough. Harry felt he didn’t deserve such absolute acceptance sometimes, and pulled his arm tighter round his lover.

“Oh God this feels good.” Draco murmured blissfully.

“Why thank you.” Harry pretended to preen.

Draco snickered. “The bed, you idiot. I don’t think I’ve slept more than 6 hours this whole week.”

Harry refrained from asking why, though he already knew. “My mistake.” He retorted lightly.

“You feel pretty good too though.” Draco’s voice was getting fuzzier.

Harry only laughed and let himself play with the fine strands of Draco’s hair. As always, it was cut carefully, not too long or short, and white blonde. Yet it was unreal to him.

“I have a plan.” Draco muttered sleepily.

“A plan?” Harry asked, vaguely interested, thinking perhaps Draco had already fallen asleep.

“Yeah. A plan. Fo’ us.”

Harry’s forehead creased slightly. “Um ok. How about you just go to sleep and we can talk about this plan tomorrow?”

Draco didn’t answer, he was already asleep.

Harry stayed a few more minutes, savouring the warmth of Draco’s body and listening for his breath to become more even. As much as he would have preferred to stay, he knew it would be beyond stupid, and so with deep regret he quietly slipped away from embrace, sliding the pillow beneath his head where his arm had been, and covering him with the throw folded on the end of the bed.  For a moment, he just watched. He was just so perfect, so fucking beautiful, Harry couldn’t even understand how he hadn’t seen it before last year. No wonder girls were always falling all over themselves to grant him his every whim. He was celestial. He wondered if Draco had any idea how completely he had lost interest in anyone but him? He didn’t even _see_ anyone else, Draco shone like a beacon in his life, a direction to which he magnetically turned to again and again.

Before he slipped out of the door though, his caught something of the door of the mini bar fridge Draco kept beneath the counter. He looked more closely. It was Draco’s class schedule. And it was fucking lunatic. He had only seen something similar in Hermione’s possession, but this was far more comprehensive. Not only did Draco have at least six extra subjects, he also had prefect duties. Looking at the little grey blocks all crowded together on the print out, he was no longer surprised at why he looked so tired.

He clenched his fists. He wasn’t sure, but he suspected that it hadn’t been a voluntary idea of Draco’s, taking up all the extra work. He could just imagine the pressure his father put on him, to excel. Even though Draco was already a top student, with many awards and accolades to his name, it was never enough. Draco would work himself to death, before his father would let up. Harry tried not to feel angry.

 _It’s not your business._ He told himself _. Draco can handle himself. What he needs from you is support, not another headache._

But the knowledge felt sour in his gut as he slid out of the door.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So as I was saying” Draco quipped as he sat down beside Harry three days later, in at the library. It wasn’t a farce that Harry was there at least. His lucky streak had ended and once again he was had to work and it was late because he wasn’t finished. It had been easy for them meet here, in the manner they had before. It would have been nostalgic, if he didn’t have two essays due the next day.

“You mean, before you fainted in my arms.” Harry replied, the comment earning him an irritated twitch from Draco. Harry grinned, loving that he could get under his skin.

“I did not faint.” Draco told him in a bored voice, as if the taunt hadn’t bothered him.

“As good as.” Harry retorted.

Draco simply fixed him with a look that was patient if not fond, so Harry let it drop. Draco was clearly not in the mood for light teasing.

“You were saying?” Harry prompted, and Draco nodded his head in approval. He took a deep breath and said.

“I want us to be friends.” He said.

Harry felt cold. What did he mean? Friends? Just friends? Weren’t they already friends? Harry’s mind began to panic at the thought that Draco could be breaking up with him, after everything…but he felt Draco reach for his hand and hold onto it tightly.

“Hold on, I started that badly. I mean, friends in the eyes of everyone else.” He said quickly, seeing the panic start in Harry’s face.

Harry deflated with relief, a little embarrassed that his reaction had been so obvious and thoughtless. He should have known better, he was just honestly terrified Draco would wake up and chalk him up to an annoying misadventure. Strangely, it hadn’t mattered as much before, but now that they would be leaving school, going out into the world, the future felt less certain… then his ears caught up with his brain.

“You want us to be friends? In public?” he asked, unsure of what Draco was thinking. Draco continued to hold his hand and Harry twisted his around so that their fingers could intertwine.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking over this, during the summer holidays.” He went on, his eyes looking out among the shelves, and his voice low, just in case there would be any other late wanderers around.

“So, you mean, being nice to me. In front of people? Who _know_ you? Who know _me_?” Harry said. He knew he sounded dense, but it he couldn’t fathom it. It wasn’t merely a fact of them suddenly being chummy with each other. It was a social status risk, far more for Draco than he. Draco sighed.

“I know you think it’s ridiculous, or risky, but honestly I think it’s the only way to move forward.” he looked down at their linked hands. “Perhaps, more so for myself, I confess.” He said quietly.

“Draco, you need to be a bit less vague.” Harry prompted. Obviously this was more than just a social chess game.

“I am just _tired_ Harry.” Draco replied, and his face gave merit to his words. “I am tired of the games, the constant work of keeping up appearances that have absolutely no basis in reality for me. I’m tired of disdaining everyone, acting like I’m a king-in-waiting. I’m tired of the pretence, I’m tired of the work it takes, “Draco looked at him side long. “I’m tired of hating you. I know you’re tired of it too.”

Harry flattened his mouth and He squeezed Draco’s hand tight as if it could convey how much what Draco saying was meant to him. He had hoped he was keeping his feelings on their daily hate-hate relationship farce hidden, but Draco was too astute for that. Still…

“Slink, if you’re doing this for me…” he started but Draco shook his head.

“No. I am, but I am doing it for me as well. I should be able to choose who I associate with or don’t associate with based on more than status, family or money.  In any event, my list of actual friends is a total of one.” He looked at him then, a shy, appreciative smile on his lips. “But in the bigger picture, it’s just one of the many ways that I am controlled by my name. It was exhausting me, even before you came along and made it unbearable. I need to start making decisions based on what I want, and not just because I’m meeting expectations.” Draco closed his eyes and breathed in. “It won’t be easy though. Everyone I know hates you. Just because I do. To suddenly change my tune…” he rubbed at his face.

Harry held on tight, afraid to let go. He thought he might be glowing. Even sitting there, anxious, exhaustion in his very movement, Draco was strong. He was finding a way to be himself, without throwing all his values out the window. He was doing it for himself, but he was also doing it for Harry. Because Harry was important.

“God, I think I’m in love with you.” Harry simply said.

Draco looked at him through his fingers then. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, mate.” Harry replied grinning at the kindled twinkle of amusement in Draco’s eyes.

“Well, if I had a penny for every time I’ve heard that….” He responded with a little smile.

“You know, I really don’t care if you show off.” Harry replied.

“You should care. Showing off is supposed be very unattractive.” Draco retorted, his eyes half lidded now, looking down on him, but Harry could see the flirtatious spark in them.

“Not when it’s deserved. And you’re never unattractive, as if you didn’t already know that. “Harry replied. _As if you needed the ego boost_.

“So that’s why it doesn’t bother you? Because I deserve every ode to my perfect face and form? How subservient of you.” Draco said dismissively and turned his face away, pretending disgust.

Harry released his hand and instead wove it behind Draco’s head, through his hair and used it gently to turn his face back to his now very close one.

“No,” he breathed, voice hoarse now. “I don’t care how many women or men have fallen at your feet, or still do, or will in the future.” Their breath mingled now. “I don’t care because you’re mine. I love you, and you’re mine, and that’s the way it is.”

“Harry.” Draco merely said, looking floored. His eyes lingered on Harry’s lips. Harry didn’t hesitate to pull him into a hot, hungry kiss that made them regret that they had not met in the cottage.


	4. 4

**_ Draco _ **

**__ **

He put his plan into effect immediately. It wasn’t the type of thing that would work if you made a splash, at least, not yet. But it had the effect of a slow burn, subtle at first, but increasingly obvious, gathering momentum so that by time it was noticed it would be too late to stop.

He started by stopping.

He ceased to take part in any derogatory banter, whether friendly or unfriendly, whether directed at his house mates, fellow prefects or anyone else. Harry had once called it ‘equal opportunity sadism,’ the way in which Draco held the same scathing contempt for everybody, but now he strove to have it for no one. Even if they deserved it.

He slowly retracted himself from any and all public taunting, still remaining his aloof self, but refusing to take part in the casual and cruel humiliation of others. Draco was a little ashamed to admit it, but it left a gaping hole in the level of conversation he was accustomed to. And since he was ceasing it, his followers did to, afraid in case it was some sort of test. They were obviously confused, but too afraid to do otherwise, such was his influence over them. Draco was repulsed. Was he such a terrible influence that he alone was responsible for the level of cruelty in the school? Had he been at it so long that they couldn’t recognise him if he wasn’t being an arrogant bastard? But he stayed firm, refusing to take part even when they would try to actively get him to take part in some casual mocking. He simply removed himself from their company when it got too much. He admitted though, it was a relief, not have to be nasty all the time. But it was also frustrating when there were situations which really deserved a sarcastic remark.

Slowly though, the waters calmed and to his surprise, began to separate into two types of people; those who were inherently cruel, and those who weren’t. Those who _were_ , eventually got over Draco’s sudden cease fire and carried on as usual, showing themselves to be the kind of people who enjoyed their status and ability to hurt others, Draco’s approval be damned.

Those who weren’t were further divided into two groups; those who seemed to want to gain his social approval in other ways, and those who seemed relieved and content to merely get on with the daily grind. It was this last group that was the smallest, and they didn’t seem to find it terrible, confusing or suspicious at his sudden change in behaviour.

For his part, he began to enjoy the respite of not having to be mean just because he was Draco Malfoy. He still retained his distant composure, though he simply couldn’t stop himself passing a well-deserved sarcastic remark sometimes, but now he came across as merely distant and vaguely irritated, rather than acidic and disdainful.

Then came a day he surprised even himself. He was doing his hallway-duty during recess, when the bell rang. A 2nd year came around the corner too fast and not looking, ploughed directly into his side. Draco managed to keep his footing, while the short girl fell to the floor, her bag spilling its contents.

“Shit!” she exclaimed then looked up, and quailed. “Mr Malfoy!” she squeaked when she saw who it was, calling him by a teachers honorific title. What people called his father, he realised.

Maybe that was why, to his utter astonishment, he found himself leaning down and gathering the books and pens that had fallen out of her case. He offered them back to her, with no expression at all, still wondering what the hell he was doing. She took them without a word, eyes still wide and terrified. Before, Draco might have laid into her with a series of insults for her clumsiness, but now…he felt no desire to. Not even close. He simply wanted to help her get up. But her stupid expression finally needled him

“Close your mouth and get to class. You’re already late.” He said, standing up. She nodded quickly and scampered off.

Draco looked after her. _Well, that’s that then. She will tell the whole bloody school_. He thought without ire. The he turned and found himself shocked still again.

Harry was leaning against the wall at the end of the passage, one foot on the wall behind him and school bag slung over one shoulder, grinning like he knew a secret.  He raised his eyebrows in question.

Draco rolled his eyes and stalked off, trying not to feel proud that his boyfriend had seen him in the process of a semi-heroic act. Well, as heroic as it would ever for him.

It was rather pleasant, not to have to be a prick all the time, but he missed the subservient attitude that came with fear.

 _But fear and respect are not the same, are they_? He thought to himself.

He feared his father, but did he respect him? He wondered about it. His father was by no means unintelligent or lazy. He’d had wealth growing up but his powerful reputation in the courtroom and among his peers came from the fact that he was good at his job. He had created the Law Firm himself, not inherited it, and he rested on no one’s laurels. But he was also underhanded, callous and ungracious in a way only he and his mother would really know.  So he left the train of thought un-answered.

Draco gritted his teeth as he found his hurried progress to his next class hampered by 1st years, dawdling in the hallway. It seemed they were lost, as they were looking at a time table with obvious sounds of distress. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his temper, and lost.

“The science hall is that way, right across the quad, little idiots.” He said, pointing. “Now get out of the fucking way!”

They jumped to do his bidding and Draco felt a small pang of regret at the lapse and he massaged his head, feeling a headache making its slow progress from ‘ache’ to ‘throbbing’. He was just so endlessly tired, and it made him irritable. Being ‘good’ was harder some days than others, but if it meant his ultimate goal was Harry, then it would be worth it.

 

 

That night, when Harry came see him, Draco was not feeling very chipper. His books lay open on his counter and coffee table, and it almost took far too much effort to get up and open the door. Harry came in, wearing a hooded jumper to hide his face, but otherwise dressed in some low slung jeans and form fitting shirt. Draco would worry that his new dress sense (inspired by himself) would alert people to wondering he was gay, but the fact that Harry had no end of girls admiring his new look put an end to that concern.

 _Well, at least I’m good for getting my boyfriend more pull with the girls_ , he thought drily, and collapsed again onto the couch.

“Tea is that way.” He pointed without looking at Harry, and heard him chuckle but move towards the kitchen anyway. He heard the kettle being filled and turned on and forced himself to sit up, with a groan.

“You alright?” Harry asked.

“Yes.” _No._ Draco had never felt this run down. He very bones ached and his head pounded. Suddenly the thought of tea, made him feel nauseous. “Forget the tea, just come here.”

Harry chuckled again but obeyed, coming to sit beside Draco and carefully putting an arm over his shoulders, while Draco fell into the space made for him by Harry’s side. It felt so natural, and Draco sighed. Then Harry tried to kiss his forehead but pulled away as if stung.

“Draco, you’re hot.” He said.

Draco looked him, eyebrows drawn together. “Thank you?” he said.

Harry looked worried and serious. “No,Draco, I think you have a fever.”

Draco waved him off. “I don’t. I never get sick. I’m just a touched over worked. If I could just get a good night’s rest…” as if that would happen, but he could dream. He tried to stand, but felt dizzy so he sat down again, holding his head. “Ugh, my head feels like it wants to start a terrible garage band with mediocre musicians.”

Harry looked momentarily derailed. “What?”

“My head is pounding.” He clarified.

“Do you have something for pain?” he asked and got up. Draco indicated the kitchen area. “In the third drawer. But I don’t think that will work, to be honest.”

Harry dragged open the draw and almost pulled the entire thing out in his haste. “Have you even taken your temperature?” he asked.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes, but it hurt, so he leaned back carefully and rested his arm over his face instead.

“Harry, I’m _not_ sick. I never get sick.” He repeated.

“Hmmm, yes. You’re just really tired and over worked.” Harry replied, annoyed... Draco peered at him, alerted by the tone. Harry was holding up his time table, and looking at him, obviously ticked off.

Draco wasn’t sure what was expected of him. “Yes, that is my work schedule. Well done for finding it.” He said.

Harry’s face grew stormy. “If this isn’t why you’re sick, then I’m a hairy grasshopper.” He said and tossed the paper onto the counter with disgust.

“You’re a what?” Draco said, completely derailed now. But Harry came to sit by him with a thermometer. Draco raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t even know I had one of those.” He admitted, but tried to come back to normality. “Listen, hairy grasshoppers and school work aside, I am perfectly fine.”

“Great, just open your mouth for a sec.” Harry said, holding up the thermometer. It was mercury thermometer, so it had to go under his tongue or…

“Aren’t those meant to take temperature rectally?” Draco asked, then stopped at the words coming out of his mouth, feeling mortified.

Harry’s stormy look retreated slightly in amusement. “Well, whatever makes you feel more comfortable?”

Draco snorted. “You just want to see my ass.”

“Always. But that’s not the point here. Although if I have to get you naked to take your damn temperature, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” Harry told him impatiently. Draco gave in and took the thermometer to put it in his mouth.

“You’re overworking yourself, Draco. I saw what your schedule looks like. It’s ridiculous. Not even Hermione can do everything you’re doing.” Harry told him, his face serious.

Draco sighed through his nose. “Well, if even the _Hermione_ can’t…” he said around the piece of glass sticking out of his mouth.

Harry stopped him with a look. “Don’t be that way. Hermione is no slouch when it comes to academics, and she knows her limits. What on earth are you trying to prove Draco? You don’t need all this shit to get into university.”

Draco lay back against the couch. He really was too tired to have this conversation. Not only was he trying to finish his school work, but his father had started sending him legal texts for proof reading. The kind of thing a paralegal would do.  “Not that it’s any if your business, but my parents and I thought…”

“Your parents thought, or your father thought?” Harry countered. Draco looked at him now, eyes narrowed in irritation and the pain in his head. “And it _is_ my business. Because I care about you.” Harry went on.

Draco wanted to both hit him and hug him. Yes, it was sweet, but really he just wasn’t in the mood to grapple the politics and tensions surrounding him and his parents. He tried to stand, thinking he should rather show Harry out.

“Harry, I think…” but the words failed him as the edges of his vision went black, and his legs folded under him.

“Shit Draco!” Harry exclaimed, and caught him just before his head hit the coffee table. He lay him carefully back on the couch and picked up the fallen thermometer, looking at it anxiously.

“40 degrees shit Draco-“all his words came out in a rush, and Draco dimly saw the anxiety plain on his features. Draco had never felt so drained, he felt as if he might float away if the pain in his head would let him.

“Draco, I know you head-prefects get a phone. Where is it?” Harry demanded, but Draco didn’t have a phone and shook his head. “Never mind. Shit.” Harry had pulled his cell from his pocket and was dialling hurriedly.

“Nurses office? Yes, I know it’s late. This is Harry Potter calling from the head Prefect Draco Malfoy’s cottage. He is seriously ill and has passed out on the couch. Can you send someone?” Draco heard Harry talking in a stern voice.

 _He sounds so strong_ , Draco thought airily. _Strong enough to carry the world…and all the wild horses_ ….and then his thoughts stopped making any kind of sense.

He floated into consciousness again briefly. He was in his bed now, and he heard voices. The nurse was there beside him, taking his blood pressure without seeing he was awake. At the end of the bed was Harry and a tall woman he recognised as the head mistress.

“Thankfully you were here, Mr Potter.” She was saying. “Although why, you still haven’t explained.” She finished sternly. It was past midnight most likely. Draco felt a stirring of alarm but couldn’t find the strength even to lift his head.

Harry contrived to look embarrassed and charming at the same time. _Bastard, he looks so good when he does that_ , Thought Draco.

“Well, Mr Malfoy is tutoring me.” He answered with a self-deprecating grin.

 _Bastard_.

The head mistresses eyebrows shot up. “Tutoring you?” she said in disbelief.

“Yes. Well, you know me, Miss, I’m not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed...”

“Mr Potter, your intellect is not really the issue. Your work ethic however…”

Harry shrugged. “Yes well, that’s why I’m here. Mr Malfoy is helping me catch up and figure out a system to be more organised. And also to help me over the more difficult subjects. The extra English is giving me nightmares.” He joked, and the head mistress gave him a small smile, won over.

 _Thrice a bastard, you bastard_.

“Very well, Mr Potter. But it’s very late for this.” She chastised, because she had to after all. But Harry was the golden child.

“We lost track of time. It won’t happen again, miss, I promise.” He said with utter sincerity.

“See that it doesn’t. You 7th years are now the ones to lead the school, and you must lead by example.”

Harry nodded and kept his tongue, like good student. The head mistress turned to the nurse. “Alright Henrietta?”

The nurse was packing away her tools, but nodded. “Yes ma’am. It’s a cold, it’s just that he ignored it so long that it’s so bad now. All my sick beds are full of colds. He will be fine in a day or so, I’ll wager. As long as he eats and drinks properly, and stays in bed. I’ll have to send someone down though, and it’s the weekend so it’s just me…”

“I don’t mind.” Harry piped up. Draco’s eyes widened in shock, or would have, if they could have opened to more than a slit.

Even the headmistress looked at him with thinly concealed surprise. “Mr Potter, you _volunteer_?” she asked, as if he was pushing the limits of her belief but the idiot merely shrugged once more.

“Well, he has probably already given me the cold hasn’t he, just by us breathing the same air all night? And like you say, it’s the weekend. He will be up and running by Monday. So it’s no trouble.”

“But Mr Potter, “the head mistress s began, speaking slowly, “I am sure we are all well aware that you and Mr Malfoy are not exactly…on the best of terms.”

Harry nodded. “That’s true enough. But we are older now, and it’s like you say, we should lead by example. My Malfoy and I have agreed to try and make amends, which is partly why he agreed to tutor me.”

Draco was astonished. He knew Harry had a silver tongue, but he was literally sucking a story out of thin air. It was amazing.

The head mistress looked as if she was about to say something, but changed her mind. “Very well, Mr Potter. Henrietta will tell you want you need to do. If we had any extra hands or beds, this job wouldn’t fall to you, but…well I’m glad that you have such a generous heart. Your parents would be proud.”

Harry stilled a little at that, but Draco thought only he could see the small cloud pass over his face at the words.

The rest was forgotten, as he fell into fevered asleep once more.

 

Draco woke next to a dimly lit room. _His_ room. He still felt horrible, possibly worse than before. His entire body ached and his mouth was cottony and tasted dreadful. His head felt stuffed with wool. He tried to move but found he felt extremely weak. Instead he groaned and rolled onto his side, surprised to find a warm body beside him. He looked up blearily and saw Harry grinning down at him. He was lying on top of the covers, and appeared to be dressed in his cricket gear.

“Well hello there, handsome.” He drawled, cocky as fuck.

Draco was still recovering from finding him in his bed. He tried to move away but discovered that he was actually lying on Harry’s arm, and he was refused to let him.

“Um, good morning.” He said, fighting for composure and losing. He knew he must look awful and felt acutely embarrassed that Harry was seeing him this way.

“Actually no, it’s afternoon. You’ve been asleep for about 12 hours.” Harry corrected.

Draco groaned again, his embarrassment forgotten. He had so much _work_ …

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he complained, and tried getting up again, but he was too weak and Harry didn’t even have to try keeping him beside him.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Malfoy, you’re an invalid. Invalids get to sleep.” Harry replied without a trace of shame. Draco tried to feel annoyed, but it was hard. Sleep did feel good. Even his father couldn’t complain if the school nurse was forcing him to stay in bed.

“I heard you talking to the head mistress.” He muttered, his thoughts felt sluggish and difficult.

“You did? Didn’t know were awake then. You really are ill, Draco. You still have a fever, I’ve been here all night.” Harry admitted.

“All night?” Draco squeaked and felt how painful it was to swallow. His throat felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper.

“Yeah. I only stepped out now to get changed for cricket, and go to a quick match this morning. Then I got your meds and came back.” Harry kissed his head. “You are a cute sleeper.”

Draco grimaced. “I am not cute. And I know I look awful right now. I feel…icky.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I won’t lie, you look shite. But also, you look gorgeous. It’s like a clever trick, but only I can see it.”

Draco gave him a look that clearly said he thought he was being idiotic. “Are you sure you aren’t sick Harry? Because you’re not making sense.” He quipped with as much bite as he could muster right then.

Harry grinned. “Yeah, I’m a bit sick. But I got off easy. You however, have been working so hard, you’ve made it worse on yourself. And now you have to pay the price. Which is to take your meds, rest and let me do everything else.” He told him as he handed him a handful of tablets and a glass of water. Draco took them and swallowed painfully, though the coolness of the water helped.

“If you’re sick, you need to rest yourself. Go back to your dorm, I’ll be fine.” Draco said with a frown.

Harry’s smile finally faded. He just looked at Draco then, eyes sorrowful. “Draco, I just _want_ to take care of you. Why do you have to make it so hard?” he asked, hurt in his voice, and Draco felt awful in more than just his body. It was such a naked emotion from Harry, and it stripped him, as it always did.

“I’m sorry Harry, I…” Draco found his hands shaking and he clenched them to make them stop. He felt dizzy and weak and the feeling was horrible. “I hate you seeing me like this. I look weak and I haven’t showered and I just don’t know how to let you look after me.“

The words were honest, yet he felt a little ashamed of himself. Was he so proud that he would rather hurt himself and his lover than be cared for? Draco knew that normal people, normal _couples_ , didn’t work that way, but it was a hard habit to break. “I’ve never really been sick, and if I was, Eustace tended to my needs. I’ve been left to look after myself.”

Harry looked sympathetic and Draco saw understanding there too. Harry too, hadn’t had a nurturing hand to care for him and make him feel safe or loved. And here he was, offering to Draco what he had likely yearned for in his younger years. Draco suddenly saw that as much as Harry craved affection, he also wanted to impart it to others, which was what drew people to him.

“I get it. But it’s me you know? You don’t have be alone all the time Draco. We can be like this.” He gestured to the space between them. Draco knew he meant more than just two people who met clandestinely to share sweet moments and hot kisses. They could be people who shared more. Keeping Harry at a distance when he so obviously wanted to be closer was unnecessary and stupid.

Draco felt wobbly all over and decided to let Harry win this round. He finally rested his head and felt his whole body relax in a way that made him realise he had been tense all over.

“All right then. We can take care of each other.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but was happier. “Fine.”

But it wasn’t long before Draco fell into exhausted sleep once more.

 

When he next woke, he felt far better. He was alone in the bed, and the curtains were drawn, but he could tell by the light that it was night time. He glanced at his watch on the bed side cabinet; 9pm. But the light was on in the kitchen and he heard the kettle boiling. Harry must still be there. He found his legs could hold him and walked unsteadily to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his extremely furry teeth. He didn’t think he would manage a shower on his own yet, but he changed into clean clothes. That alone made him feel more normal. He carefully walked over to the kitchen then. He stopped and leaned on the doorjamb, mouth slack.

Harry was in the kitchen. And he was making tea. And he had also apparently taken the liberty of using Draco’s shower because was standing there in only a towel. The muscles on his shoulders stood out in glorious curves and moved with smooth grace across each other as he reached upwards to take something out of the cupboard by is head. Draco’s eyes travelled down his ribs and across the wide expanse of his back, down to the curved, leanness of his waist.

Harry was built beautifully, like some Grecian athletes, and suddenly Draco felt extremely dizzy.

He must have made a noise, because Harry’s wet head whipped around, his long dark hair made almost black by the water.

“Draco? You’re awake? Shit, are you ok?” Harry turned around fast, and made as if to come towards him, looking concerned. Draco held out his hand to stop him and retreated to the couch as quickly as he could, determined not to look at Harry’s damp chest. Harry’s head turned to follow him.

“Draco, I thought we agreed that you would let me…” he sounded exasperated. Draco hushed him with a gesture and sat down gingerly, resting his elbows on his knees and covered his face. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” Harry said, annoyed now.

Maybe it was being ill that disintegrated the filter from his brain to his mouth, but Draco said:

“Harry, speaking as a man who is recovering from illness, walking in on his incredibly sexy lover, half naked in his kitchen, it is only the fact that my blood pressure is dangerously low that I haven’t forced you onto my bed and ripped that ridiculous excuse for a towel off and done…things.”

Silence.

Draco risked a look at Harry, who was standing frozen behind the counter, a tea bag still in his hand. He blinked, and Draco was too far too see what expression his eyes held.

“I really wish you weren’t sick right now.” He answered eventually.

Draco merely nodded, clutching his hands together. ”Maybe you should get dressed.”

Harry nodded hard. “Yup. On it.” He said, dashing to the bedroom and closed the door, and Draco allowed himself to breathe again. God, this boy had ruined him for other men. And now not only was his blood pumping hard making him dizzy, but his thoughts were running wild, happily cavorting through every single fantasy of him and Harry and beds….

“Tea.” He said to himself and tottered weakly over to the abandoned kettle.

As he propped himself up on the counter with one hand he poured hot water over the tea bag, and took out another cup for himself, preferring chamomile to earl grey. He watched the colour seep into the water, and it was slightly hypnotic.

He often stood here on long evenings, when the nights were already deep into quiet, and watched the tea change the colour of the water. They were seconds unwasted, he felt, even though he knew he should just stir the tea and get on with it. But there was a peaceful feeling that came with watching the tannins bleeding out in lazy tendrils, the tea leaves losing their battle with the water, allowing the chemical processes have their way. All to flavour his tea. There was likely a metaphor in there. Draco must have drifted off because he blinked when he heard the door open again, revealing Harry, now dressed.

It didn’t do much to alleviate the animal roaring inside him, but at least he was naked anymore. _Thank god_. But he really did wish he wasn’t sick.

Harry pulled down the shirt over his waist band, and held his arms out for approval. “Better?”

Draco looked at him appraisingly from the corner of his eye. The shirt was a dusty grey colour with some obscure band name on it, while the jeans were nondescript, and slightly too large for him. He was still bare feet but overall Draco felt like he could trust himself again.

“It will do.” He said with nod, and turned back to the tea. Harry came up next to him and Draco closed his eyes against the heat radiating off his body. Harry must have noticed though.

“Draco, you’re still not completely recovered, you should go sit down while I do this.” He told him gently.

“I am not a child.” Draco replied, but without rancour, still dipping the tea bag.

“I didn’t _say_ you were. Just don’t be a hero and push yourself. I’ve been where you are, and it’s no picnic. It’s far better if you get to rest.” Harry told him putting his hand on the small of his back.

Draco couldn’t help himself. He leaned into it, sighing with pleasure. Harry took his cue and slid his arm more securely around his waist, but to Draco’s annoyance he led him to the couch, sitting him down. Draco shot him a half-hearted glare, which his boyfriend ignored.

“Are you hungry yet?” he asked, going back to the kitchen.

Draco thought for a moment and said, “Not very, I’ll admit.”

“That will be the fever. You don’t have to force it, but you do need to drink, or you really will just feel worse instead of better.” Harry said, bringing him his tea. He noticed it was made exactly how he preferred it. “Think you could manage some chicken soup?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, to tired or weak to really put up a fight. And Harry was being sweet after all, even if it galled him to be taken care of.

“Isn’t chicken soup rather cliché?” he quipped, as he watched Harry from half lidded eyes, busying himself in the kitchen. He took a small container out of the bar fridge and put it in the microwave to heat. His hair was still damp, and he looked good. It was an enjoyable sight.

“It’s cliché because it works.” Harry answered him, leaning with his back on the counter, arm crossed over his chest while he waited for the soup.

“If you say so.” Draco nodded. “Why do I still feel like I’ve been doing hard labour?”

“Because your body has been fighting the infection, and that takes a lot of work. The fever takes it out of you, and the fact that you’re dehydrated makes your body ache.” Harry told him, and Draco looked at him, vaguely impressed.

“How do you know all this?” he asked.

Harry huffed a laugh, and turned back to fetch the soup out of the microwave which had chimed. “You would know it too, if you had ever really been sick. But I was really ill a few summers ago, and I picked up some things.”

Draco felt there might be more to the story. “Is that so?”

Harry shrugged, back still turned to him. “Well, it was a summer holiday and I got ill. It was incredibly hot, but Vernon wanted be to work in the garden. So he forced me out into the sun for the whole day, digging up weeds and mowing the lawn and whatnot, and he really didn’t care when I told him I felt bad. By the end of the day I passed out, like you did. They were forced to take me to the doctor when I didn’t wake up the next morning.” Harry told him casually. “So that’s how I know.”

Draco stayed silent. He knew that the story was anything but a casual retelling, but Harry clearly didn’t want pity, any more than Draco would have. Yet Harry was telling him, even though he didn’t have to.

“God, what a _fucking cunt_.” Draco said when the silence stretched. He knew he couldn’t offer Harry pity in this moment, but he had to express himself in some fashion. He had never even met the people, and he loathed them, for the simple fact that they treated Harry what such little care. Harry, who was as good inside as he was good looking outside, who didn’t even care about spending the money that poured out of his pockets.

Harry laughed and the sound wasn’t forced or fake. “Draco, you don’t even know them.”

“Thank God. If I ever have the misfortune to meet these people, I would have some choice words ready.” Draco replied with feeling.

Harry brought him the soup in a small bowl. ”Here, it’s not much but your stomach won’t be able to handle anymore.”

Draco eyed the soup suspiciously. “Is this from the school kitchens? Because if it is-“he started.

“No, your highness, it’s from here. I bought some ingredients and made it myself.” Harry cut him off, knowing his dislike for the school food.

Draco ignored the ‘highness’ shot and asked; “You cook?”

Harry shrugged. “Some. Aunt Petunia sometimes made me cook. That or starve.”

Draco cautiously ate a spoonful, and found it wasn’t bad. Harry was no chef, but it was far better than anything the school matrons would have forced on him. “Thank you. It’s good.” He told Harry gratefully, who was waiting. Harry smiled and got up again to get his tea and medication.

Draco ate his soup quietly. Partly because he found himself hungrier than expected, as if his stomach had been asleep. And partly because he was thinking about what Harry had said. Not for the first time, he reflected that he and Harry were two boys forced to grown early into men’s shoes in many crucial ways. He recalled Harry when he first arrived. He had been small and thin and quiet, not completely unusual for an eleven year old boy. The following years had been spent directing ire his way, but Draco had recalled him now.

He had remained thin, though growing, and had only in the last year hit a growth spurt that caused him to pack on bulk and mass. Draco had certainly never given thought to his home life in those years when they were enemies, he hadn’t cared why Harry came back to school at the beginning of each year looking a little more worn. Now he thought back. A few years ago, he was still thin and gangly. He could just imagine a hungry Harry Potter, being forced to work all day in the heat with no food or water simply because he was bade to. Having money hadn’t stopped the Dursley’s from hating him, in fact, Harry had told him they resorted to insulting and threatening him, accusing him of being a leech when he had enough money to pay them back thrice over for all the years they had harboured his lazy person. Draco didn’t need Harry to explicitly say so, but he could fill in the blanks. They most likely demanded he pay them money, and if Harry refused he was punished. They never hit him, but they could withdraw food, basic bathroom needs, company….Harry had once told him in passing they had locked him in his room for 2 days for some small crime he had committed. He knew they were capable.

He felt deep loathing for such people. And these people in particular because of Harry. If he ever had the opportunity…

“Don’t.” Harry spoke, breaking into his thoughts. Draco looked up, and tried to compose his features but must have failed. Or Harry simply knew him that well.

“Draco, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.” Harry said again. He knew what Draco had been mulling over.

Draco said down his empty bowl with exaggerated care. “I don’t understand how _you_ let it go. You act as if it’s nothing.” He told him. “If it were me…” but Harry shook his head, taking a sip of his tea.

“They weren’t always bad. She took me in didn’t she? But she remarried when I was four and Vernon…changed things, changed her. But I’m ok now. And life is just too long to hold a grudge that big. And now, because of my parents and you, I can live my life. I can be happy.”

Draco looked at him confusedly. “Because of your parents and me?”

Harry put down his cup and laced his hands behind his head. “Yeah. My parents left me money. I don’t think they knew I would be so unhappy with the Dursley’s, but it’s because they did that I can get away from them now. So there’s that.” And he looked at Draco. “And you, because you make me want to get out there and do more.”

Draco still looked at him questioningly. Harry began to fidget. “You know, before you, I was just enjoying myself. It was just such a relief to be away from them. And then it was so great to be here, at this school, making friends, doing sports….all that. But you know me, I’m lazy. I don’t really try at anything. I do what I have to, to get by.” He laughed a small laugh. “But now, you make me want more. To be more. You’re going to be hugely successful, whatever you end up doing. I hadn’t even thought about what to do after school was done. But you… well, I want you to be proud of me.” He finished off in a small voice.

Draco’s mouth dropped open. Never in his entire life, had someone wanted _him_ to be proud of them. Wanted his respect. His money, sidelong social status, his name, his obedience, but never his respect. He was astounded that someone he so ardently admired would want such a thing from him, and didn’t already know that.

“Harry,” he replied. “You never cease to surprise.”

Harry glanced at him, looking vulnerable. Draco couldn’t help but touch his face, feeling the stubble along his chin. “Harry, you clearly don’t know, so I will elaborate. I already admire you. More so than anyone else in my acquaintance. I even sometimes wish I could be like you. You’re far better than I am…” but Harry had reached up to touch the hand that held his face.

“Draco, that’s not what this about. I don’t want to go into ‘who is better than who at what’” he said. “I just wanted to tell you, that you changed the course of my life, and you still do every day, and I am grateful for it.”

Draco felt his throat tighten. He was usually more emotional around Harry, but he truly struggled to keep himself composed this time. Harry’s words were a gift. Perhaps it was from being ill, but the swelling in his chest was difficult to mask. He turned his face away and withdrew his hand, settling simply on saying. “The pleasure is mine then.”

Harry followed his hand his own and drew it to his lips to kiss the palm. Draco leaned back into him, so completely grateful that he fit there so perfectly. Harry’s other arm came over his shoulder and Draco found he felt immensely sleepy.

“Seems like you need to get back into bed.” Harry told him fondly.

“I’ve just woken up.” Draco protested as Harry pulled him up, but then he yawned hugely without warning.

“Rest. That’s the best healer.” Harry told him and pulled him to the bed. “I thought that was laughter.” He replied.

When he had settled him beneath blankets, he started to walk away, but Draco piped up sleepily.

“I beg your pardon, but surely you don’t think you’ll be sleeping on that horrible couch.” He said.

Harry looked at the couch, then back at Draco. He shrugged. “Obviously not.” And he happily pulled himself up next to Draco so that they lay there, legs entangled and warming each other. Harry told his imagination to stop giving him ideas, that Draco was sick, and settled himself to simply enjoy being near his boyfriend. At least no one could walk in on them here. The door had locks.

“Goodnight, Slink.” He muttered.

“Goo ‘night, Etch.” Draco replied sleepily. “Thank you.”

Harry smiled at that last little word. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like it, holla at me on Tumblr :)
> 
> Also, please rec, if you think it's good enough.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut alert

This time when Draco woke, he felt almost normal again. He came-to slowly, far too comfortable to rush things. If the light in his room was anything to go by, it was morning. Probably had been for some time. Careful not to disturb the sleeping Harry, who was lying face down beside him and snoring, he reached out and fished his phone out from his bedside cabinet. A glance it its face told him that it was 9:30 AM on Sunday morning. And it also told him he had one missed call and several messages. He scrolled through them quickly, finding only one of genuine in importance; his mother had sent a text;

 _I_ _haven’t heard from you, is everything alright? Mom_

It was short and to the point, but Draco saw the underlying note of motherly concern there. Considering that before this year, he and his mother never spoke at all unless he was at home, it was a huge effort at communication. Except that it wasn’t anymore. With more and more ease and practice, they began a sort of stilted repartee via phone text. Draco would text her every other day, with updates or just generalities, and she would respond. They were even drifting into an area that might be considered ‘casual;’ for them, but which was probably average parental communication for everyone else. In spite of the strangeness of it, Draco truly enjoyed his renewed relationship with his mother, and was grateful to take it slowly to rebuild what they had lost. He felt slightly guilty now, as he hadn’t even thought to message her since Friday. Well, he had been sick, but she hadn’t known. He typed a quick response.

 _Sorry mom, I’ve been ill. Genuinely, this time. On the mend now, will be fine by Tuesday. Harry is looking after me_. He added the last, carefully.

That was another thing he could do now, he could tell her about Harry. They weren’t teenage girls, so their conversations about him weren’t gushing and giggly. But he could mention something Harry had done or said, some thought he had pertaining to him, knowing his mother would see how much the words really meant. She never pushed, but always let him feel like anything he chose to tell her was good to hear, and completely confidential. Still, he hoped she deleted the messages afterwards, at any rate. But having a confidant in his mother felt good.

A reply came back, almost immediately.

 _I hope you’re at least taking showers this time_.

Draco grimaced. She recalled how unkempt he had been the last time he had been _ill_. He hadn’t been really sick, but he had been a miserable love sick mope and he had looked terrible. Then another message.

 _I want to meet Harry_.

He reread the message, unsure how to respond. He decided to put the phone down and reply later on, when he had a clear head and some tea and food in his belly. And besides, he heard the sounds of wakefulness coming from Harry. Quickly, he slipped out of bed to brush his teeth.

By the time he returned, he felt cleaner, more himself and ravenous. Harry hadn’t moved, but his green eyes were open and watching him sleepily as he climbed back into the bed beside him. Draco suddenly noticed he had no shirt on, and was just in his boxers, the waist band of which was revealed by the blanket he had shoved away when he left. His mouth went dry.

“G’morning.” Harry mumbled through the bed sheet. Draco folded his hands close to his body to stop them from twitching.

 “Good morning” he replied. “Once again I wake up to find you half naked.” He raised an eyebrow. He really was feeling more himself. Extremely so.

Harry grunted and pulled himself up on his elbows, making the sheet slide down a little further. Harry looked even better in the morning light. Draco let his hands go this time, and they got to touch the hard muscles over Harry’s shoulders. His skin felt velvety, and he let the tips of his fingers glide over and round the shoulder blade, becoming lost in the feel of him.

“Hmmm?” he became aware Harry had said something.

“I said, seems like you’re feeling better.” Harry was looking at him with an unreadably dark expression. He tilted his head askance, but his eyes were unreadable and his chin balanced on his chin.

Draco let his eyes go back to what his hands were doing. “Yes. I feel almost back to my old self. Rest and relaxation and all that.” He replied, musingly. His fingers followed the bumps of Harry’s spinal column and slowly travelled down the slope of his back. He didn’t miss the shiver that rippled through his lovers muscles, and let himself smirk. His hands continued their exploration, following the way the skin stretched over Harry’s ribs.

“Harry…” he said softly.

“Mm.” Was Harry’s only response.

“It was a very long holiday.” Draco replied simply, and met his eyes sidelong. Harry’s face was completely enveloped in lust, and he gazed at Draco while biting his lower lip. He needed no more invitation. He raised himself up slowly, allowing Draco’s hand to slide under him as he pushed himself to lean over Draco’s body. They kissed slowly, and Draco felt the smouldering lust he had barely been holding at bay roar into life. Sweet, domestic moment’s aside, it had been at least five weeks since he and Harry had touched each other as lovers, the train incident notwithstanding. It had been a brief taste compared to what they both craved. Now finally they were alone, without time constraints and the speed with which they laid into each other was intense.

Harry pulled his shirt up over his head and it was gone before Draco had time to think about it. Harry immediately bit at the place where his neck became his shoulder, causing Draco to cry out.

“God, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.” Harry growled. Allowing his hands to drag down Draco bare sides. Draco stretched like a cat, which had the combined effect of pushing him closer to Harry’s body and just letting him release some pent up tension. Harry caught him under his waist mid-stretch and used his impressive strength to bring Draco up, which ended with Harry kneeling and Draco straddling him. Draco threaded his fingers in Harry’s wild hair and kissed him deeply, allowing himself free reign, and it earned him a groan. Kissing Harry was always mind-blowingly addictive, but something about not being limited by the fear of discovery or time was an aphrodisiac. He would have been embarrassed by how quickly his body, certain body parts in particular, responded in the moment, but Harry was clearly right there with him so it didn’t matter.

He pushed at Harry’s shoulders, urging him to lie down beneath him. He let his hands drift over the bare skin and he heard Harry’s appreciative hiss.

“Do you have any idea, “Harry panted. “How long this summer was for me?”

Draco licked at his clavicle, then bit hard. “Yes. I very much do.” He said as his hands reached and slid Harry’s boxers off. Harry shifted to help him and soon was naked beneath him. Draco’s lust rage. Harry lay there, his god-like physique at his pleasure, while was tight with barely controlled desire. He leaned down again, probing Harry’s mouth eagerly, lost in the overall sensations of skin on skin, and he pushed his groin against Harry’s now free cock. Harry bucked against him and Draco could see the action wasn’t voluntary.

“Draco, you’re driving me crazy here.” Harry growled at him as his hands gripped Draco’s hips in a vice.

Draco reached down and caught Harry’s now-leaking cock in his hand. Harry’s eyes slid closed and he bit his lip. Draco began a rhythm but Harry stopped him,

“Not, not just me this time.” Harry told him.

Draco allowed him to pull his own pants off this time, and when he straddled Harry again, they were completely naked. Draco was caught by the moment. They had been completely naked with each other before, but never where there wasn’t the threat of discovery. But now they were alone, and would continue to be so.

Harry leaned up and snaked an arm around his waist, before carefully flipping him on his back. Draco blinked in confusion.

“Just.” Harry breathed harshly. “Just let me.”

Draco felt Harry gentle bite on his neck, then his kiss on his chest, and make how way lower between Draco’s legs. Draco barely had the mental capacity to realise what was going on, but Harry’s mouth trailed fire.  Then suddenly he felt himself encompassed and his gasp was audible. He dared to look down, and found the dark haired man between his thighs, looking at him with cautious eyes. He felt his tongue slide hesitantly over the sensitive underside of his member. Draco’s eyes rolled back in his head, the pleasure radiating outwards over his whole body.

“Harry.” He tried to say in a tight voice. But Harry didn’t stop. Clearly Draco’s reaction had encouraged him, because he went on. Though Draco knew that neither of them had any experience in the matter, Harry could have fooled him. The slow build of pressure was torturous but divine and Draco gave himself over to the warmth of Harry’s mouth and the pressure on his hips as Harry kept him from bucking. His hands fisted the sheets and he writhed as the pleasure built. Suddenly he knew he was about to become undone, and gave Harry a small push of warning, before he climaxed. The stars exploded behind his eyes, and he felt his body still shaking with the aftermath.

He was panting and felt utterly spent.

“Draco? Are you alright?” he heard Harry ask him through the fog. He would have laughed, but it seemed like a shameless waste of energy he didn’t have. He nodded, eyes still closed. Slowly Harry crawled up beside him and he gratefully let himself be gathered up. His body still felt warm and giddy, and he focused on letting his breathing come back to normal and his heart beat to slow. Harry was cupping his cheek, letting his thumb glide over Draco’s bruised lips.

“Draco?” Harry said again and Draco finally opened his eyes. His lover’s face was inches away, and Draco saw the lines of anxiety there. “Draco? Was that...ok?” he asked tentatively.

Draco was silent so long, that the anxiety increased in Harry’s face. So Draco kissed him softly.

“I am speechless.” He told him.

Harry blushed and smiled then. “I wasn’t sure…”

“Harry, it was amazing.” Draco tried to find more adequate words, but his brain was still foggy. “I just feel so…”

Harry held him tighter, tucking his face into Draco’s neck, and that felt right. “Draco, I love you.”

Draco closed his eyes again. The emotional fall out from coming so hard was that he truly struggled to hold his tongue. “Harry. I don’t deserve you.” He whispered. He meant it utterly.

Harry only held him tighter

 

When Draco’s stomach had announced that it was still empty, Harry offered to go make breakfast, which allowed Draco time to clean up. He walked to the shower on shaking legs, but was glad he had as soon as he stepped into the hot water. His first shower in three days. Draco shuddered to think that Harry had even managed to sleep next to him in this state, never mind ….. Draco cleaned himself vigorously. His lover had done things to him he had only read about in books, with no experience to speak of. Once again, the marvellous spectacle that has Harry Potter made him shake his head and smile.

When he stepped out of the shower, he felt better, but was still hungry. He walked to the kitchen with his towel tied about his waist. He leaned on the doorjamb, this time with far more aplomb than the last time he had found Harry standing there making him tea.

“Ahem.” He coughed quietly, making Harry turn. He had thrown on his jeans but nothing else, but this time Draco focused on his eyes, which he saw were taking him in appreciatively. As he intended.  Harry face became shy.

“Feeling much better I see.” He said, but there was a telltale wobble to his voice.

Draco walked over to him and leaned against the counter. He carefully took up a piece of buttered toast. Harry handed him the jam silently, but Draco was watching him out the corner of his eyes. Harry seemed nervous, and Draco could guess why. Which was exactly what he planned on addressing. He casually took a bite of toast, and was glad he did. His belly cried out for sustenance. He allowed the silence between them to settle, not in any hurry.

He felt good. Very good. He was clean, he as being fed, his head didn’t ache anymore, and he had just climaxed hard enough to nearly pass out. It was a good way to start the day. He nudged Harry with his elbow.

“How are you feeling?” he asked casually, starting on his second slice of toast.

Harry shrugged. “Fine.” He said simply. Draco nearly rolled his eyes.

“Harry, why are you acting like a school girl who has just lost her virginity to a teacher?” he asked bluntly. Harry’s blush was in full bloom now. He seemed to struggle to find his voice.

“I just…” he shrugged again. “I’ve just never done anything like that.” He seemed shy,

Draco felt the string of hurt. Was he regretting it? “Harry, if you didn’t want to…”

Harry hurried to correct him. “No I did! Believe me, I did. I think it was all thought about over the summer…”

“Then what’s wrong?” Draco asked, seeking a plain answer.

Harry shoulders slumped as he sighed out, and his face looked unsure. But eventually he spoke, picking at some small splinter in the wood of the counter.

“Draco, you make me happy. You know I love you and want to be with you and all that comes with that, “Harry skated quickly over that statement. “But I really want to make you happy. What we have isn’t just physical, not that it ever really was. But now, it means more. More than just a kiss or a physical closeness.” He sighed, obviously feeling like he wasn’t really explaining himself well. “I just means so much more now, to me.”

Draco reached out to the dejected looking man beside him. “To me too, Harry.” He told him softly.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think you really understand what I’m trying to say. I barely do.”

Draco leaned back a little, trying to get Harry to look at him.

“Harry I know, it’s hard. What we have is…difficult.” He said but regretted it as his face closed in anguish.

“I don’t care, you know.” He told him. “I don’t care that it’s difficult. As long I have you, and I can make you happy.”

Draco’s heart lurched. He said it so simply, as if that truly was all he really wanted in the world. His desires were that plain. _Be with Draco, make Draco happy_. And of course that bled over into the physical realm. It dawned on Draco that his lover was feeling inadequate, for the simple fact that he had never considered himself gay, and thus didn’t think he had the ability to satisfy him in bed.

Draco touched his arm lightly, afraid he might turn away. “Harry…”

But Harry didn’t turn away. He waited.

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a word for your sexuality, and it doesn’t matter that you’ve never been with a man. You taught me that.” He reminded him. “But it _really_ doesn’t matter. It’s because you love me, and I love you that makes it beautiful. I could have slept with a hundred men and you would still make feel the way you do. That fact that I haven’t doesn’t change that.” Draco tried to get Harry look at him, but Harry was still behaving shyly, though Draco thought he saw the slope in his shoulders ease a bit.

“And you forget, I am a virgin, same as you. What you learn, I learn. Speaking of learning, how exactly did you learn to do that?” Draco asked him, hoping to spur a less sombre reaction.

Harry’s cheeks were practically crimson. He laughed very awkwardly and leaned against the counter, balancing on both arms. Draco’s curiosity peaked.

“I um, did some reading…” Harry told him, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You did.” Draco responded, disbelief making his voice flat.

Harry collapsed onto his arms now, folding them and putting his head down, and Draco thought he was trying to hide. “Um, yes.”

If Draco hadn’t long ago had his own curious mind lured into gay erotica, he would have been embarrassed. But he found Harry’s reaction amusing, and the reason for his embarrassment touching.

“So you’re telling me, that you went and _researched_ how to give a blow job?” Draco said bluntly. He thought he saw Harry cringe, which really only made it funnier.

Harry was silent, and Draco was trying his best not to laugh out loud. Then;

“Did it work?” Harry asked in a small voice.

“Did it work?” Draco repeated back to him. What an idiot. He would have to spell it out for him. “For God’s sake Harry, yes it worked. I came my brains out and saw stars.”

Harry peeked out at him, lifting his head from his arms. Draco caught the ghost of a grin. “You saw stars?”

Draco felt his amusement flee to be replaced with an unfamiliar timidity, and he grew annoyed with himself. “For someone who is as virginal as I am, I am impressed.”

Harry stood upright again, a very happy and slightly smug smile on his face. “Ok then.” He said, clearly his doubts had been assuaged. Draco was glad he had been able to fix this. But he wasn’t quite done.

 He put his hand to Harry’s chest, and firmly pushed him away from the counter, until he gently touched against the opposite wall. Harry looked questioning, but Draco saw the tell-tale sign that Harry anticipated what would come next. His breath came just a little shallower, his heart beat a little faster, and that dark, animal look began to grow in his face. Draco spread his fingers, allowing himself feel the smoothness of his chest.

“Harry, I too, want to make you happy.” He told him.

He felt powerful and every bit the aristocratic princeling he was in this moment. He was well again, and he wasn’t done with Harry. “I want to thank you for looking after me, after all. You have done such a _marvellous_ job.” He leaned closer then, taking in Harry’s musky scent as he whispered into his ear. He let his hand rest on Harry’s belt buckle. “Do you think you’re the only one who has been having hot dreams all summer? Do you have any idea how hard it is not to touch you whenever I see you? To claim you? For all to see?” he expertly loosened the buckle and top button if the denim, and was pleased to see he wouldn’t have to unzip them, as Harry hadn’t bothered to zip them up in the first place. He let his head drift lower, kissing his bicep and taking Harry’s hardness in his hand. Harry wasn’t even pretending now. His lust shone plainly on his face, his mouth open slightly, begging Draco to kiss it. It was intoxicating.

 “I want all of you, always.” And he slid to his knees and felt excitement grow at the sight before him. He was astonished to find himself intimidated, but his lust and love won out and he took Harry in his mouth. He should have expected it, he was no stranger to Harry’s anatomy, but the hand and the mouth are two different things. Still, he was determined to enjoy himself, and he found it easy to lose himself in the sensations of his tongue on sensitive skin, encourage by the moans that fell from Harry’s mouth. He was not a quiet lover, and it made Draco more aroused to hear him.

“Draco, fuck…” Harry cried out and pushed at his shoulder. But Draco refused to move as Harry climaxed into his throat. Draco somehow managed not to gag as he took it all in, and only removed his mouth when he felt Harry go soft. Harry slid down the wall and landed ungracefully in front of him, panting heavily.

Draco sat back on his haunches, and wiped at his mouth. He could still taste Harry. It hadn’t been unpleasant, just a surprise. He suspected it would get easier with time and experience. And he fully intended to seek out that experience every chance he got. God, he felt smug. Harry finally looked at him, and caught his cat-got-the-canary grin.

Draco knew he didn’t need to ask, but he did anyway. “And?”

Harry laughed a little breathlessly. “I may have seen stars.”

Draco continued his grin. “Well, it wasn’t my best work. A bed would be better next time. Or at least a fucking carpet.” He rubbed his knees briefly then sat with his legs crossed.

Harry just stared at him. “You’re going to be the end of me.” He said.

  1. Draco leaned in to kiss his boyfriend. “Then you can join me there, at the end.”Smut alert




	6. 6

**_ Harry _ **

**__ **

The weekend, as did any time with Draco, ended too quickly and suddenly, and left Harry feeling bereft and slightly grumpy. The upside was that it was a four day school week, the downside was that after the weekend, he was now so far behind in his work he had to beg almost all his teachers for extensions. As a result, he hardly saw Draco for the rest of the week.

However, the story he had had spun of Draco being his tutor had spread like wildfire. Since Harry had been tending to Draco the entire weekend, using quarantine as a reason for their isolation, he hadn’t seen it start. But by the time he got back to school, he was confronted by his friends, asking if it could possibly be true. With a twinge of anxiety, he realised hadn’t actually discussed it in depth with Draco, so he hoped the other boy would just go with it. It hadn’t been in _his_ plan, and this was definitely pushing things along faster than expected.

“But you hate him!” Ronald exclaimed.

Harry actively did _not_ roll his eyes. “I don’t hate him. We just really didn’t get along.”

“How long has he been tutoring you?” Hermione demanded.

“A while…since we got back to school.” Harry made up.

“This has been going on for over a month and you didn’t tell us?” she retorted.

“Well, I’m sure you can imagine why I might want to keep it to myself.” He replied, annoyed. He hated being interrogated and crowded. “Besides, you know I need help with my work, even on a good day.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask me?” Hermione said.

Harry sighed, but his mind raced. “Um, well, at the beginning of term I went to Headmistress McGonagall, and um, asked her for help. You always have so much on your plate Hermione, and I didn’t want you doing all my work, and _you know you would have done exactly that_.” He said as Hermione opened her mouth to protest. “She told me that I could find a tutor, and Draco volunteered, because he needed the extra credit.”

“For what? He already does everything!” Hermione protested, still sore about the fact the Draco was cleverer than she was.

“Social service. Anyway. We agreed to grow up and get over things.”

“Draco Malfoy agreed to ‘grow up and get over things’.” Ronald, repeated back to him, disbelieving.

Harry sighed loudly, very done with the conversation. “You don’t have to believe it Ron. Life goes on, people mature. He’s tutoring me, it doesn’t make us chummy.”

Ronald still couldn’t let it go. “But you hate him. He hates you.”

Harry put a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Hating people is a waste of time and energy. I just want to pass with enough credits to get into college, and he is helping me get that. Now, if you two are done with the inquisition, we are going to be late for first period, and I still need to piss.” And with that he pushed passed their incredulous faces. He walked quickly, hoping to leave them behind so he could covertly send a message to Draco.

 Writing him a quick email, he filled him in on everything he had just told Ronald and Hermione, hoping he would read it soon so their stories would coincide. He added a quick _sorry_ at the end of it, knowing Draco would be even more annoyed if people starting questioning him the way Harry had just endured.

The week rolled on, and so did the rumours. People went from being scandalised, to disbelieving, to downright insulting. Harry was surprised to find himself being jostled in the hallways, and when he looked up to see who it was, he saw some of Draco’s old cronies glaring at him. He stood his ground, knowing that there weren’t many who would try to start a fight with him now. Even though he stared them down until they left, he wondered what it had meant.

Their new lie was rewarded when Draco came up to him, during class in full view of all. And for the effort, every face in the room turned to follow. He stopped in front of his desk and looked at him with no expression.

“I have a slot open this evening, Potter. 7pm, don’t be late.” He drawled in a tone devoid of interest.

Harry didn’t bat an eye. He gave a two finger salute. “Wotcha. I’ll be there.”

And that was all. But barely had the school bell rung than the moment became front page news. Draco Malfoy, aristocratic heir to the Malfoy name and fortune, was publicly tutoring Harry Potter, school sport Golden Boy. In front of the whole world. And not one insult had been exchanged. Well, the world had clearly gone mad.

Luckily, it didn’t need to be staged twice. The rumours rose and died, and people went on with their lives, displaying that typical human trait; that almost anything can become boring given enough time to become familiar. His two closest friends were still uncomfortable, but in all honesty, they all had so much work they couldn’t spend too much time worrying over it. All of them were working at a flat rate, trying to complete assignments in time for exams. Even though their regular ‘tutoring’ sessions gave Draco and Harry more time to be together, they spent at least as much time if not more in their studies, as they did getting up to other things.

Once Harry had even awoken with a start, a paper stuck to his face. He had fallen asleep while studying, and it seemed Draco had too, although with far more grace. He was slumped across the couch, his long legs slung over the one end, and a book over his face. He hadn’t lessened his work load, Harry noticed, but Draco wouldn’t let him pursue the subject.

But they found a new rhythm. They let their friendship emerge slowly, careful to keep it realistic, as if they were only now becoming friends. Ronald still scowled, and Harry was subject to more dirty looks and mysteriously aggressive jostling in the hallways at times, but it never escalated. By the time exams came around, Harry could be casual around Draco, taking his good-natured mockery in his stride and returning with his own quips. It was far better than it had been.

But rumours can be ugly too.

They were ugly in nature. Harry started hearing low, hissed whispers when he sat down in class. “Faggot.” Or in the bathrooms. “Shirt-lifter.”

 Harry ignored them, he was good at letting insults pass.

He did worried for Draco though, because there was a chance it would get back to his father. He approached Draco one night as they went through their ritual tea-making before getting into their studies.

“Maybe we should stop.” Harry said. “As in you should stop tutoring me.”

Draco paused. “Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely surprised he would suggest it.

Harry looked at him. “I know it bothers you.” Harry said. “What they’re saying about us.”

Draco looked away, face placid. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Liar.”

Draco looked back at him now, before fishing his tea bag out of the cup and tossing it in the bin. “No Harry, I’m not. It really doesn’t bother me. Nasty rumours from small minded people. It would have bothered me before but now…”he shook his head slowly, the movement slight. “Perhaps you have influenced me Harry. It is really not worth my time to care about what they say.”

Harry leaned against the counter, one hand holding his tea and other hand in his pocket. “Really?”

Draco shrugged carelessly. “Really.”

Harry humphed. “Huh.” He replied. “It doesn’t bother me either. Even if it is true.” He grinned and Draco laughed softly at the joke. “But I am worried it will get back to your dad.”

Draco stirred his tea thoughtfully. His pose mirrored Harry’s, except that his legs crossed elegantly at the ankles. “It did occur to me too. But I don’t think it will. Apart from owning the school building and controlling its legal affairs, he doesn’t involve himself here. Unless something happens that forces him to pay attention to anything going on here, he won’t have a clue.”

Harry acknowledged what he said without comment. He tried not to comment on anything where Draco’s father was concerned, as it got him so tense it wasn’t worth the fight. But he was glad Draco wasn’t upset about the bigotry that was coming their way.

“You have it worse than me, anyway. Everyone is too frightened of a Malfoy.” Draco added, with sympathy.

“No one would pick a fight with me, I’m the school hero. I got us the championship cup this year remember?” he told him with a charming grin.

Draco looked at him seriously. “And the school is eternally grateful. But it won’t protect you forever.”

Harry shrugged. “I can hold my own, if it comes to that.”

Draco put down his empty cup with a sigh. “I hope it doesn’t.”

Harry hoped that too, but he knew he would just have to take whatever came his way. Their relationship was complicated, but Harry wasn’t going to give it up. He just thought it was ironic that he might have to defend himself against rumours that were in fact true, and if he could have he would have gladly admitted to them.

“Speaking of parents, my mother has been in touch. “ Draco told him. His arms were crossed across his chest, but not tense, and he was the picture of tired but relaxed. Harry really enjoyed these evenings, when they could enjoy the pleasure of companionship. He knew he loved Draco, but Draco had also become his closest friend, and being able to simply spend time with him were the best parts of his days. He waited for Draco to carry on, sipping at his tea. The well-bred boy was trying to get him like tea by trying different blends, and today it was strawberry and nettle.

 Draco’s mother knew about him, and had kept their secret out of love for her son, but he had never met her. He did silently thank her though, for allowing Draco the freedom to be who he was without judgment. He had no delusions that, had she not been so openly accepting, Draco wouldn’t be with Harry now. The knowledge ached, but he ignored it.

“She wants to meet you.” Draco told him.

Harry held his breath, unsure how to tread.

Draco looked at him with slight annoyance. “You can respond Harry. Would you like to meet her?”

Harry swallowed. “Would you like me to?”

Draco sighed and tapped his lips with his forefinger, thoughtful. “I’m not sure. Yes and no. Mostly yes. Yes.” Harry waited while Draco worked the thought around in his head. Clearly he had been wrestling with this one for a while. Finally he let his arm drop. “I would Harry. But only if you feel comfortable.”

“Ok.” He answered. In all honesty, he didn’t know how he felt about it, but if it made Draco happy he was willing to do it.

Draco looked at him as if analysing his answer. “Are you sure?”

Harry shrugged, feeling surer now. “Yes. But when? Where?”  But he needn’t have worried, because Draco had been thinking about this too.

“At my 18th birthday party. I think that would be a good time.” He explained.

“Ha. I forget I’m older than you.”

Draco ignored him. “Don’t be smug, it’s not attractive.”

“Is _so_.”

“ _In any case_ , “Draco went on, “my birthday party won’t be on my birthday itself, but the week before. In the first week of the Christmas holidays.”

Harry wrinkled his forehead in question. “Why then?”

Draco suppressed a sigh. “Because my birthday is on the 24th of December.” He admitted with bad grace.

 Harry’s mouth gaped. “How did I not know this?”

“It’s not common knowledge. Why _would_ you know?”

Harry thought about it. He had never cared before when Draco’s birthday was. He barely cared about his own birthday. But Draco had gone out of his way to find it out; Harry still had the hairbrush tucked away in its box in his dorm room. But it made a poetic kind of sense. Draco was pale, Icelandic in feature of form. He was a child of winter.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “What?’

“Nothing. So I’m invited to your huge birthday party then?” Harry moved on quickly to hide his expression.

Draco still looked suspicious, but was too tired to hold on to it. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Yes. We can discuss details later. There will be too many people there, with too much alcohol and so many snobs you’ll be swimming in contemporary aristocracy. And probably some actual aristocracy.” Draco didn’t sound excited at the prospect. “It’s an excuse for my parents to rub elbows and flaunt their wealth, and flaunt _me_ most likely.”

Harry sympathised. He knew Draco didn’t enjoy the shameless way his father paraded him like a prized bull. But he endured it, as there was nothing he could really do about it. Harry shifted, seeking to change the subject before Draco got too aggravated.

“I won’t fit in.” he told him, letting a little anxiety show. Draco pointed a finger at him.

“You will fit in. I’ll make sure of it.” He said with certainty. Harry knew Draco didn’t care about his clothes or money, but the prospect of being at an obviously high end party was daunting, as Harry had no experience in that realm. It was however, Draco’s natural habitat and he trusted he wouldn’t let him embarrass himself.

Exams came around and even the taunting stopped. There was simply no room for anything except academics, whether it came from love or hate. No sooner had they written one exam that they were studying for the next one, the breaks in-between horribly short. Harry barely kept up, and he didn’t see Draco at all except in passing for the two week exam duration, and when he did see him, he looked drawn and preoccupied. And Harry suspected he wasn’t sleeping again, but neither of them had time to send each other anything but the briefest of messages of encouragement.

But the exams did come to an end eventually. Harry almost whooped aloud at his exam desk as he finally set down his pen, hand cramping and spine clicking as he stretched. He simply couldn’t care anymore. Two weeks of torture and he was done. Now he would have leave the rest up to the fates, and he wished them luck with reading his handwriting.

He was one of the first to finish, so he slipped his paper to the invidulator and practically skipped out of the hall, noticing as he passed Hermione that she had written far more than the required amount. But he didn’t care, freedom tasted too good. He walked through the empty hallways, stretching his legs and back, feeling all two weeks of stress and tension. Because 7th years wrote such gruelling exams, they were allowed an extra-long holiday; a week, to recover before returning to the school, instead of a three day weekend. It was also the first time he would be going to see his parents’ house. He and Draco had made preliminary plans to go, and Harry looked forward to it excitedly. He had been slightly worried Draco would change his mind, but he seemed as excited about it as Harry was. He wouldn’t be able to stay the entire week, citing that his mother wanted him home for a little while at least, but it would be four days together and that was a very attractive prospect.

 

He was rounding the corner of the hall that connected to his dorms by a staircase, when he was slammed against the wall. It was unexpected, so the breathe was knocked out of him with the force of it. He also must have hit his head, because his sight went blank for a moment, then refocussed. Another boy stood in front of him, his fists wrapped in Harry’s shirt so tightly he thought the buttons would give in. He vaguely recognised the face but couldn’t place it. He had dusky coloured skin, with roughly cut shaggy hair which he slicked back with gel. Whoever it was, was seething, the naked rage in his face woke Harry up, his instincts kicking into gear.

“ _What the fuck!”_ he shouted at his attacker.

The boy pulled Harry close then slammed his back into the wall again. Harry was prepared this time and grabbed at the idiot’s arms so that his body curled around them, and his tense muscles taking the brunt of the hit.

“I know what you’re about, pretty boy. Don’t think you can fool me as easily as you fool him.” The attacker hissed, and Harry thought he detected an accent. “You need to stay away from him, if you plan on finishing out your school year in one piece.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Harry responded without fear. He suddenly decided he had had enough and pushed at the boy with all his strength and the boy fell away, stumbling to catch his balance. He tried to swing at Harry, but he had been in enough fights to see what was coming and dodged it, though he felt air rush past his face. He pushed again, suing his momentum against him, and the boy flew into the wall opposite. However it clearly only made him more insane, and he launched back at Harry with renewed vigour. Harry struggled to deflect the blows, which were clumsy but heavy, so they hurt. Finally he grabbed the arms at the elbows and forced them up and away from him before moving backwards, to create some distance.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just calm the fuck down, alright?” Harry tried reason.

The boy practically hissed. “Faggot.” He spat. “You stay away from him.”

Then footsteps echoed, announcing that they would soon have company. Before Harry could say anything more, the boy got ran away, disappearing in less than a second. Harry was left panting, blood still pumping, wondering what the hell had just happened.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortish one, but it needed to stand alone

**_ Harry _ **

Harry stepped off the bus, at a small bus stop on a nondescript road.

He didn’t have to look long before he spotted Draco. The pale blonde was leaning up against his silver Lexus, already wearing his casual clothes; a pair of sand coloured slacks, buttoned shirt with an unzipped tailored leather jacket. He wore sunglasses too and his hair was lightly tussled by the breeze in the busses wake.

He was standing with his hand in his pockets, looking straight at him, and _goddamit he looked good_. Harry had to physical restrain himself from running at him like a dog to its master. He forced himself to walk normally, his worldly possessions swung over his shoulder in a gym bag. He followed Draco to the rear of the car, where the boot opened by some hidden signal, tossing his bag in next to Draco’s crisp, expensive looking luggage bag, which was obviously larger than his. He smirked but said nothing, all their opposite natures illustrated with those two bags.

 He barely had time to appreciate the sleek leather seats in the passenger sidebefore hands were yanking his shirt, turning his face so that is collided with Draco’s.  If he hadn’t been half expecting it he might have knocked into Draco’s teeth. When Draco finally released him, he grinned.

“Hello lover.” he greeted, putting the car into gear.

-8-

 

The trip was long, but they settled into a easy conversation after exchanging updates and complaints about the exams. The view changed as they travelled further and further away from more populated areas. City turned into town, town turned into suburbia, then between large chunks of countryside they drove through small villages. The silence was comfortable, and Harry suspected they were both recharging from the sheer amounts of information they had forced themselves to learn then regurgitate in the last few weeks. It was healing, to think of nothing, for the tensions of schoolwork to seep from their bodies and minds. The smooth motion of Draco’s car was very conducive to a blank, hypnotic state. Eventually they came to a halt in the small village of Hexway. Although ‘village’ was perhaps being a bit generous.

It was clearly the kind of place that had been around for some time. Nothing spectacular, a short main road boasting only a pub, post office and small general grocer. He and Draco climbed out of the silver vehicle, which stood out in sharp contrast to its surroundings. Modernity seemed not have touched Hexway at all. They stretched their idle muscles and took in the view, which wasn’t much, and Harry saw from Draco’s expression that he was sceptical. Harry told him he would go into the post office to see about finding directions to the house. Draco nodded, seeming grateful that he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Harry strolled into the small building, and found himself the only person there, besides an older man behind the counter, who was listening to the radio. When Harry introduced himself, he found the man polite and asked him for direction to number 12 Sheffield lane. The man eyebrows rose.

“Grimmauld Place? Why would you want to go there?” he asked, looking far more awake.

Harry cleared his throat. “I didn’t know it was called that. It...Um...It belonged to my parents…” he told him uncertainly, not anticipating he would need to explain himself.

The man’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his thin hairline. “The Potter’s? You’re never their son?” his tone was somewhat awed. “Wait until Maudie hears this…”

Harry felt uneasy. He really didn’t want any kind of excitement surrounding his appearance, and didn’t know how to proceed, but was rescued by Draco’s bored tones.

“We just want to know how to get there, not start a gossip column.” He told the man coldly, coming to stand beside Harry. Draco looked the epitome of intimidating and rich, and the man cleared his throat.

“Sorry. Ye’ need to take the main road all the way to the end. At the gate, turn left, and it’s at the end of that lane. Ye’ can’t miss it, it’s the only house there.” He cleared his throat gain, but his curiosity clearly overcame his politeness. “Forgive me, but it really is quite surprising, seeing you. That house has been empty for 15 years at least…”

“Thank you.” Draco said, with a note of finality, turning away. Harry followed gratefully, but was sure the man would be on the phone as soon as they left the building.

Harry aimed himself back to the car but Draco stopped him with a touch on his arm. “If that house had been empty for 15 years, were going to need some things.” He said, redirecting them to the single grocery shop on the street. There they got broom, mop, bucket, cloths, and other cleaning things. As well as things the house was likely to be completely devoid of, such as food and toilet paper. Harry was suddenly truly grateful for Draco’s presence of mind. Harry would never have thought of any of these things on his own, and would likely have arrived at the house with nothing but his clothes. Once Harry paid for it all, they carried it all back to the car, and set off again.

The main road was uneventful, shops giving way quickly to houses. It was clear the village had been built a very long time ago, judging from the fact that most houses were made from stone rather than brick. Here and there were signs of modernity’s influence; newer houses, upgrades or simply fixing up of broken walls or fences. It was green, every home seemed to have a garden of some size, and overall it was quaint, sleepy looking town. They saw very few people that first day. But the road soon became rough and uneven, and Draco cursed, complaining that his suspension would be fucked unless they drove at a crawl.

When they turned into Sheffield lane, which was little more than a cart road, Draco groaned. Harry wasn’t bothered, since he was eagerly looking ahead, waiting for the house to come into view. When they finally rounded the curve in the road that showed the house, neither of them noticed it at first. The view had captured them, and was spectacular. He saw now why his parents would have settled here, more than for the distance it was from the urban centre. The house was built on an edge of the town, and looked over a rolling green valley that was untouched by man with anything more than stone fence to mark the division of farmland. The valley stretched far, until it disappeared into some distance hills, while some small specks Harry guessed were sheep in the distance, grazed. It was a picture of peace, and breath taking.

 Harry felt a pull towards such openness, as if he could run for hours without tiring. The wind came up and it was cool and refreshing, and he closed his eyes, suddenly feeling a sense of longing for something unnamed… he glanced at Draco and was pleased to see him just as awed by the sight. The fact that he was, made Harry’s heart lift.

Finally he turned to look at the house properly. It was as Draco’s picture had shown him before, but felt different in reality, as these things often do. It showed signs of its years of dis-inhabitation, but was not in bad repair, as Harry thought it would be. It was odd but he went up closer. There was a low stone wall with a wrought iron gate that he pushed open silently. Another oddness. Wouldn’t a gate that hadn’t been used in 15 years be rusty, and screech when opened? Wouldn’t it have plant life growing all over it? He saw the garden too, had been tended and was just as verdant as any he had seen on the way there. As he got closer, it occurred to him that the house didn’t match the era of the other houses they had passed in terms of style, concluding it must have been built later. It showed signs of age; paint that needed a new coat, a shingle or two on its roof were cracked or coated in lichen, but here and there were signs of repair. He was growing more and more suspicious, but surely the old man at the post office would have told him had someone been living there? He seemed so surprised…

Draco came up next to him and he seemed to be thinking the same thing. He shared a glance with Harry that told him he was right to be suspicious. However, he asked.

“Do you want to go inside?”

Harry looked at the house again. The windows were shuttered and it certainly didn’t look inhabited, just kept.  Also, there was some odd nudging in his brain, and he found he really did want to go inside.

He took out the small ring of keys he had in his jacket pocket, the ones he’d been fidgeting with them the entire trip. He found the one that had the number twelve inscribed on it and stepped up the stairs to Grimmauld Place. Unlocking the door was easy and it swing inwards on oiled hinges.

Harry held his breath when he stepped inside, having already concocted the image of someone caught in the act of cooking a meal, or something domestic, expecting to be met with distressed or shocked cries. But none of that occurred. Harry could tell no one was there, because the feeling of the house was…empty.

As the two walked slowly into the house, taking it in, they relaxed. Plastic sheeting covered all the furniture, and a thin layer of dust coated every surface. It became obvious that no one lived here and Harry let loose a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He really hadn’t looked forward to idea of dealing with a squatter in his family home. Now that he wasn’t walking on eggshells, he observed the house itself. It was obvious that people had once lived here. It had many touches that proved it. The utensils in the kitchen showed that at some point they were regularly used, bric a brac on the mantelpiece, books on the shelves, some dog eared. There were pictures on the walls, but Harry skated over those, not wanting to see what faces would look back at him. The downstairs had the kitchen, lounge, dining room and small loo. He walked upstairs, feeling the smooth wood of the banister beneath his fingers, and it was somehow different to any other banister he had ever touched.

The upstairs held three rooms and this was where Harry’s footsteps slowed.

The first room was a spare room. It was bare, with only a dressing table and an iron bedframe in it, though it had a sloped roof and a window facing the western side of the house, which meant it looked back towards the town rather than the valley.

 The second room was the main bedroom, and Harry felt his legs weaken a little. It held a four post bed, mattress still on it. This room was not bare, but showed every sign that it had once been lived in. Photos were propped up on the dressing table, jewellery hung looped over the frame of the mirror on the wall. The largest wall, which sloped as the other rooms did, had a large window set into it, facing the valley, with dark red curtains pulled open. An empty bottle of perfume sat on the dressing table, and Harry felt drawn to it but couldn’t bring himself to touch anything. He backed out and went to the last room. He could barely move past the doorway.

It was a child’s room. It had a small low wooden bed with a railing around it. A bookshelf was against the one wall, holding both children’s books and some toys. On a small chest that sat under the window were a small array of teddy bears, which were both intensely familiar and frighteningly alien to him. And on the sloped wall that rose above the bed, amidst painted stars, was the name “Harry.” Written in red and gold paint. He couldn’t stop staring at it. He dimly felt Draco come up just behind him, not entering the room but standing close.

“This was my room.” He said softly.

Draco said nothing. There was nothing to say. The truth lay before him, offering him everything and absolutely nothing. He carefully leaned forward, caught the handle and closed the door. Then he slowly made his way back down the stairs.

Later, Draco found him outside, sitting on the steps of the house, gazing a million miles into nowhere. He sat beside him, quietly.

“I’ve taken in the baggage and supplies.” He told him

Harry said nothing. The silence settled again and it was strange, but Draco had never been uncomfortable with silence. He settled beside him and Harry didn’t feel as if he was waiting for him to speak. He was simply in the silence with him. The afternoon, already late, wore into evening, and they watched the sky gradually change from light to dim, then that in-between time when the sun has set but the sky is still lit. Soon enough, the first stars began to appear. Harry’s hand found Draco’s, and still they sat. This was no place for words.

Eventually they went indoors, and Harry felt as if some mountain had been crested inside him. He couldn’t put words to it, but the being in the house had affected him far more than he had likely. He was shaken inside, feeling pieces of himself rattling around in him like broken glass. But Draco was there, his solid, undemanding presence, kept him grounded. Though he imagined himself to have put all pain and longing with regards to his family behind him, the fact that he had all but fallen apart this afternoon made that a lie. It was easier to pretend when he didn’t have to face all that he had potentially lost. The facts scraped across his raw nerves; he had had a _family._ They had loved him, cared for him, his life could have been so _different_ …

For the rest of that evening, he couldn’t stop feeling like he was on the verge of falling apart. Draco wordlessly understood. They did go upstairs again, instead deciding to sleep on the couches. There were two, one a two seater and other a three seater, and were thankfully large enough for them both to lie beside each other if they were pushed together. It suited Harry, who found himself holding Draco very tightly, as if he was a lifeline. He was desperate to have him close, fearing what might happen that if he let go, that Harry wouldn’t survive whatever was going on in his heart and mind. Draco didn’t complain, object, or suggest anything, he let Harry nearly crush him and held his head in his arms, kissing his crown tenderly. It was a long time before Harry managed to fall asleep, haunted by memories and voices on the edge of his remembering, of things that had been and things that never would be. Tears fell from his eyes without him wishing it unstoppable. The night was longest he had ever endured, then.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just love domesticity, don't you?

But it did pass. The next morning he woke, feeling as if some burden had settled on his shoulders the day before, but held with it the hope that it would lift with time. His eyes were scratchy and his arms empty. Sitting up carefully, looking over the back of the couch and pushing his hair from his eyes, where he heard kitchen sounds. Draco’s back was turned to him, but he could see he was trying to find a way to make tea. He didn’t say anything yet, wanting to watch him. There he stood, and he wondered if Draco understood the enormous act of love he had given Harry last night. More than just his lover, he had been his friend, demanding nothing from him when he needed someone most.

Harry had no one in his life who had ever done, could ever do, what Draco did simply by his presence. He felt such a huge swelling of love for him then that it almost hurt. It was an indescribable thing, one that couldn’t be put into words ever, because words fell woefully short. It was why art and music and poetry existed, to explain with the intangible what words could never do. Harry’s fists clenched.

 He knew with a certainty then, that it was always going to come to this, the moment when he would know without question that Draco was the only person he would ever want.

He clutched his hands together in the effort to control his mood then. He knew what he knew, but in the same way, he knew that Draco didn’t quite know it yet. Not in the same way. He pushed the thoughts away, already feeling fractured and fragile. The last thing he wanted was to spend their brief holiday together falling apart.

He stood up slowly and walked across the bare wood floor, and wrapped his arms around his lover, kissing him on the neck as he did so. “Good morning.”

Draco started a little, but quickly recovered. “Well, you’re as quiet as the dead. Good morning.” He answered with his usual dry humour.

Harry breathed in his scent, his mouth still on his neck. He was rewarded when Draco leaned into him, enjoying the moment as much as Harry was.

“I see you’re trying to make tea.” Harry commented, his breath making Draco skin moist.

“I am trying and not succeeding.” He replied with a frustrated voice. “The water seemed to work, but there is no power. I honestly have no idea where to go from here.”

Harry glanced at the array before him. Draco had found an old fashioned tea pot, the kind that whistled. Harry glanced at the stove and saw it was gas powered. That would mean he would have to go back into town to buy gas. He hoped the whole house wasn’t run on it, or Draco would be livid at the fact that he would have to wait for a shower.

“It’s a gas stove. So we need gas for it.” He saw Draco grimace. “Sorry, looks like we will have to wait for tea.”

Draco sighed with feeling. “Oh well. Needs must and all that. Please tell me the shower works.” Harry had anticipated this, and he reluctantly let go of him to go looking for the power box. He finally found it in the top corner of the kitchen cupboard above the stove, and flicked all the switches to the ‘on’ setting. He heard a tell-tale hum, and confirmed the power worked when they could turn the kitchen lights on and off.

“Should have bought a bloody electric kettle.” Draco muttered darkly.

“We can get it when we get gas.” He assured him. “You will have to wait about an hour for the shower though. The geyser has to warm up.” He said, hoping it still had water in it.

Unwilling as yet to get started on dealing with the house, they drifted outside again, looking at the morning light warming up the valley below them. Grass was still wet with dew and the vines which grew up the side of house were heavy with it. Settling once again on the steps, Harry reflected that he was grateful he didn’t have to talk about the night before. He didn’t think he could. But Draco didn’t demand explanation. Harry felt once again that huge feeling, but turned aside from it, afraid of what it meant.

“I suppose we should order some things.” Draco sighed thoughtfully.

Harry looked at him. “Like?”

Draco leaned against the wall and crossed his legs at the ankles. “A fridge. A microwave. A mattress.” He told him, and his face was gentle. “We could sleep in the spare room.” He suggested softly.

Harry swallowed. As much as he was broken by everything the house represented, he desperately wanted to move on. And also, he loved that Draco had told him they would be buying a bed for the express purpose of sharing it with each other. He nodded, “Yeah, we should do that.”

Draco looked happy and slightly relieved. “I will have to do it in the next town, as there is absolutely no reception out here.”

Harry wasn’t surprised, but he said nothing. He knew he was being uncharacteristically quiet, but Draco’s merely threaded his fingers through his hair and smiled at him, a face that said _it will be alright_. And that was incredibly comforting.

“I suppose that means we have to get started on cleaning up.” He finally said.

Draco made a face, as if the thought of manual labour was repulsive. “I suppose.” He said extremely grudgingly. “I warn you, it’s not my strength.” Harry laughed out loud at this understatement, and Draco merely sniffed haughtily.

“I thought you said you were going to help me?” Harry mocked.

“That was before I woke up with dust bunnies in my hair.” He retorted with a shiver of disgust.

Harry laughed again but felt slightly guilty. It was one thing for him to get mucky cleaning out the house of is parents, but asking Draco to do so seemed cruel. But before he could say anything, something dark, hairy and barking crashed into him.

Harry recovered quickly, his first fearful instinct quickly erased when he realised it was only a rather enthusiastic dog, which was now licking his face like he was his best friend. Harry laughed, but pushed him off, the dog fighting him all the way.

“Alright, get off!” Harry told him, but couldn’t put any bite into the words. The dog clearly didn’t believe him either, climbing right back into his lap which was far too small for it’s bulk. Harry finally pushed him off and the dog started running in mad circles in the grass. Harry looked at Draco and burst out laughing hard; Draco looked horrified.

“What was _that_?” he demanded. He was now standing, backed up against the house.

“It’s a dog. What else?” Harry laughingly told him. “Were you about to run into the house? What if he attacked me?”

Draco didn’t even look at him, his eyes still following the mad dog. “You can handle yourself.”

Harry looked back at the dog. It wasn’t a small animal. It looked likely to have wolf hound in there, but by his exuberant nature probably some collie as well. He had shaggy black fur and huge ears that flopped madly as he ran. Harry stood and the dog came back at him, this time rearing up to put its paws on his chest and his eyes were at the same height as his. _Big dog_. Harry rubbed his head and scratched behind his ears. He had never had a pet, but it wasn’t hard to know what to do, the creature made its preferences clear. He rolled onto this back, begging for a belly rubs, and Harry obliged.

“Well, you are very friendly aren’t you?” Harry said to it. It barked happily back. He looked back at Draco who still hadn’t left the veranda. “He won’t bite.” He called.

“How can you tell?” Draco asked, nothing indicating he was planning to move from his place of safety.

“He’s friendly. If he was going to bite either one of us, he would have by now.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I _know_ you have never had a dog. How can you possibly know that?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Draco it’s a _dog,_ not a tiger. Everyone knows about dogs.”

Draco’s lip curled. “It’s filthy. What kind of dog is it in any case?”

Harry tilted his head as the canine went tearing across the grass again, his tongue lolling out of his mouth comically. “Not sure. Definitely some wolf hound in there. Maybe some sheep dog.”

“A mutt.” Draco said flatly.

Harry grinned up at him. ‘Not all of us can be purebred.”

Draco made a ‘tut’ sound by clicking his tongue but said nothing more, looking away.

“Hello!” a female voice called out. It came from a small woman, probably in her late 60’s, and the dog trotted along beside her. She was waving, and Harry raised a hand tentatively to wave back. He exchanged a look with Draco, who looked curious but guarded. As the woman came closer, she seemed open and happy to see them. Harry in particular. She walked right up to him and grasped his hand, shaking it enthusiastically. The dog sat at their feet, panting happily.

“I am so very pleased to meet you!” she told him. “My name is Bathilda. I knew your parents.”

Harry’s uncertain smile fell away, but the woman carried on. “I really am just so glad to finally see you again, Harry.”

Harry felt his chest tighten. “Um, thanks…” he managed as Draco came to stand beside him, but said nothing.

Bathilda seemed to notice him then. “Oh? You have brought a friend with you then?”

“Yes, err…he is helping me move in…” Harry struggled to keep up, his tongue felt leaden.

“I am Draco Malfoy.” Draco introduced himself, but didn’t offer to shake her hand. She smiled a little unsurely replied anyway. “A pleasure to meet you, young sir. Does this mean you’re moving in to stay?” Bathilda directed at Harry.

“Yes, that is the plan.” Harry answered. Bathilda looked pleased.

“I am glad to hear it. I’ve been taking care of things, making sure it didn’t fall part, hoping you would come to claim it one day, you know.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “So you’re the one who’s been taking care of it!” he said.

“Yes indeed. Like I said, I knew your parents, they were good people. Helped me a lot when I had some trouble back then…I knew you too, you know. I recall you running around, bare bum to the sun most afternoons.” Bathilda remarked.

Harry gaped, and Draco didn’t quite smother a laugh. Bathilda chuckled and shook her head. “No need to be embarrassed. You was only a babe after all.”

Harry shook his head, trying to get a handle on the conversation. “So you have been looking after it all this time?” he said.

“Yes. Well, in a way. I’m getting on a bit, and my Patrick passed on two years ago and can’t help me anymore. But I make sure there’s no rats and leaks and such. And I made sure your water and power got turned on again yesterday when Peter told me you have arrived.”

Harry nodded, realising the Peter must be the man at the post office. He obviously hadn’t waited long before spreading word of their arrival. Just then, the dog licked his hand. Harry smiled.

“Your dog is very welcoming.” He said.

Bathilda looked mildly annoyed. “Him? Oh he’s not mine. He a bit of a pest, truth be told. He is sort of everyone dog, as no one knows where he came from and he won’t leave. Somehow he always gets food in his belly though, and the other dogs avoid him. We call him Snuffles.”

Harry looked down at the dog, now Snuffles, and the dog looked back at him, head akimbo. He immediately rolled on his back, wanting more rubs. Bathilda nudged him with her foot, but he ignored her and Harry liked him even more.

“What took you so long dear?” Bathilda voice piped up. Harry looked at her. “I’m sorry?”

“What took you so long to come home?” she asked again.

Harry felt stuck. He truly didn’t know how to answer the question. “I didn’t know…” was all he could manage.

Bathilda was not appeased. “Didn’t know? How could you not have…?” but Draco intervened.

“Miss Bathilda, we thank you for your effort in coming to welcome us, but unfortunately there are many things we needs to do if Harry is going to be living here now, and that includes taking a shower. We hope to see you soon, but for now we must say goodbye. “Draco polite words were betrayed by the not very subtle sarcasm in his voice. Bathilda looked shocked but recovered.

“Oh well, of course, I suppose. I’m just over the hill, if you need anything.” She said.

“Thank you.” Draco said and waved a goodbye before pulling Harry gently towards the house. Snuffles tried to follow, but Draco firmly left him on the other side of the kitchen door.

“Thanks, “Harry sighed out when they sat down again.

“Anytime.” Draco responded.

“She was sweet…” Harry tried.

Draco rolled his eyes. “She was insensitive or ignorant, but she had no business flaunting either.”

Harry leaned back, not willing to get into it. He felt strange all over again. “Ok, enough time wasting. Let’s get to it.”

Draco groaned but complied, hauling himself upright. “It’s going to have to wait, since I still need a shower, and food in my belly, which requires driving back up the hell-road.”

Harry thought for a moment. “True. How about this; you go get clean and dressed and go get the things we need. I’ll stay here and get started.”

Draco looked at him with slight concern. “Alright. Will you be ok here?” Harry knew he was referring to his wobbly emotional state since they had arrived. Harry swallowed and nodded firmly. “Yeah, I need to do this.”

Draco only leaned close to give a firm kiss, before going upstairs to where the shower was, toiletry bag and towel in hand. Harry watched him disappear then looked around the room. He hadn’t been able to really look at it the day before, but he was determined to face it now. It was the largest room in on the downstairs level, and the only thing separating it from the kitchen area was the back of the couch and where the carpet ended. It had large windows with benches built into the wall beneath them, the polished wood warming up as the sun shone down on them. The fitted carpet felt a bit tacky beneath his bare feet, as he walked to the large fireplace, willing himself to face what sat atop the mantelpiece.

They were photos. A little faded but still discernible. It showed an array of the same three characters; a small woman with green eyes, and a taller dark haired man. A small chubby child smiled with joyful abandon out of several. Pictures of their wedding day. One of the child chewing a wooden spoon with a chocolate ring around his mouth. An image of the three of them, at a party. He felt odd, disconnected but drawn to them nonetheless. He had never seen pictures of his parents before now. The photographs weren’t just posed shots, but of a candid moments held in time. They had seemed happy. His mother had been beautiful, her complexion fair and skin freckled. He saw now why people had known him the moment he stepped into the school grounds, or the post office yesterday, he was the image of his father, but for the glasses his father wore.

He stared at the photos a little longer, and eventually decided to leave them as they were for now. He needed to start making the place his own. He busied himself with coaxing open the many windows. It was going to be a clear day, and the house was dusty. He opened everyone that didn’t stubbornly refuse. Then he set about taking all the plastic covers off the furniture. They had only used the largest couch before, but he revealed a second couch, a coffee table with clawed feet, and a liquor cabinet made of dark wood.  Using the few cleaning things they had bought the previous day, he started on the layer of sticky dust that covered the glass of the windows, counter tops and every spare surface. He was so absorbed that he barely heard Draco come down the stairs. When he noticed him, he laughed.

“Do you expect to clean in that?” he asked, leaning on the broom handle. Draco was wearing a light coloured set of clothes, as if he were going to the beach or shopping. Draco’s eye brows rose.

“I admit, I didn’t think of cleaning when I packed for this trip.” He replied.

Harry shrugged. “You could always get a set of overalls while you’re out.” Draco’s nose wrinkled. 

“I do not wear _overalls_.” He sneered. Harry shrugged.

“Get some for me then. We can think of something a bit less messy for you to do.” Draco looked grateful and nodded.

“I’ve thought of some more things to get, if there is a chance we can find them here.” He added doubtfully. “Towels and such. But after thinking it over, this house is going to need a lot more than a simple clean.”

Harry agreed. He had been thinking along the same lines. “Well, let’s just get what we need for this week. I’m not going to be staying here proper until end of school year in any case.”

“Alright, love.” Draco replied casually, while picking his keys up from the kitchen counter. Harry started a little. They had affectionate pet names for each other in private, but never outside of those times. To hear him say without thinking now spoke volumes.

He grabbed his lover to give him a kiss. Draco kissed back but broke away too soon. “Ugh, you’re filthy.”

“Get used to it.” Harry grinned. Draco turned away with a sigh, picking up his keys. “I’ll see you in a while.”

“Don’t insult anybody.” Harry called.

“I make no promises.” Was the short reply before he disappeared down through the door.


	9. 9

Harry became fully absorbed in the work, and found it easy to do so. He barely noticed the silence, because as he moved through the old house, he found signs of life, both past and present. He swept spider webs out of corners a dislodged a family of mice living in one of the kitchen cupboards, glad he had found them before Draco had. As he found momentum, he found it easier to clean the dusty glass fronts of photographs that decorated the entire house. Cleaning the windows made the house warm and light, and opening them removed the musty smell. The wooden floors were in good repair, so it seems that they had been thankfully saved from termites, and glowed warmly once Harry had mopped them.  He had made about four bags of rubbish before stopped, feeling had done enough for the time being. His belly growled, and he wondered where Draco had gotten to. The Thai food they had gotten on their trip seemed very far away suddenly, and he looked up to see that three hours had passed.

Before he could start to worry though, Draco came through the door, carrying a shopping bag. He looked up at Harry. “Lord, you’re a sight.”

Harry looked at himself. It was true, he was dust streaked, and quite filthy. “I’ve been busy.” He looked up again. “Please tell me you brought food.”

Draco gave him a stern look. “I had to go into the next town to get it, but you aren’t touching it before you go have a shower. Or hose yourself off.”

“No kiss then?” Harry teased.

“Not even for a bet. After you get everything I bought out of the car, go shower.” Draco instructed as he detoured around him to the kitchen, giving him a wide berth. Harry grinned but did as he was told, as he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the need to be clean. The water was warm and cleansing, inside and out, and by the time he came downstairs, he felt far more human. He walked over to Draco, and levered himself up on the wide kitchen counter.

“What’s for dinner, honey?” he asked, nudging him with his shoulder.

Draco didn’t look at him as he plated sandwiches. Harry saw he had bought an electric kettle, plugged it into an ancient looking outlet and had made tea. He drank it with a contented sigh, nudging Harry’s plate towards him.

“So clever. Eat. I’m famished and I haven’t even been doing hard labour all morning.”

Harry gratefully took a bite into a cheese and ham sandwich. It tasted brilliant.  He swallowed and said. “It thought you didn’t cook.”

Draco merely gave him a look. “Making a sandwich is not cooking. Acceptable then?”

Harry nodded vigorously still chewing. He was already on the other half. He eyes the packet of crisps peeking out of the shopping bag Draco brought. Draco saw it and said. “I hope you don’t plan to live of crisps and noodles when I’m not here.”

Harry laughed. “I’m the one who cooks remember?” he said as he opened the bag. “I’m just starving, that’s all. And it’s holidays, I get to eat badly.”

Draco merely shook his head, taking a small bite of his sandwich, ever well mannered. Harry just kept looking at him. Even though the house felt strange, he was slowly becoming more comfortable. But Draco fit in like he had always been there. His lover gazed out of the kitchen window, which overlooked the back garden, quietly sipping his tea, completely at ease.

“I am so glad you’re here.” Harry told him, wiping at the corner of his mouth.

Draco met his eyes, and Harry saw a smile in them. “I am too.” He replied.

-8-

They spent the rest of the day working on the house some more.

Draco looked so uncomfortable at the thought of getting dirty that Harry took pity on his lover. He set him to working through the bookshelves and drawers of the house, to wipe down what needed wiping and throw away any junk, so that he could carry on with the really filthy work. Draco hadn’t found him overalls, so he put his clothes from that morning back on, rather than dirty a new set. They worked well together, making light talk about things they found. Harry asked for advice about cockroaches in the cupboard under the stairs and chuckled when Draco told him to burn them. Draco went through all the books in the lounge and bedrooms carefully, even reverently, bringing them all downstairs and packing them in neat piles on the coffee table. They removed all the curtains, both agreeing that there was no saving them, as some of them simply disintegrated in their hands, sending them both into coughing fits from the dust. By the time the day started growing dark, they were both grimy and sweaty. Harry bore this better than his Draco, as he was used to playing outdoor sports in all kinds of weather, and being dirty held no shock for him. But Draco could barely stand it.

He threw the cloth in the sink with finality. “That is it. I am _done_.” He spat. His mood had slowly deteriorated as time went on.

Harry was sympathetic. He knew Draco hated mess, and dirt and generally becoming physically involved in hard labour. “I know. It’s done for the day.” He told him.

“Good, because I am taking a shower, dust bunnies be damned.” He said and with that, stomped his way upstairs.

“I’ll cook then, “he called to his retreating back.

They were both feeling tired and cranky, but they had done a lot, and in spite of it all, the day had been good. He felt as if the shifting pieces of his world, which had been adrift the day before were slowly moving into a new better position. The house was becoming his, and Draco and he flowed around each other like oil and water, slick and without impediment. As they worked together in an easy synchronicity, and Harry wondered if it was because they were away from all the prying eyes for the first time. No fear.

 He pondered while he searched through the groceries Draco had bought. He snorted. It was so obvious the man had never cooked in his life, the odd assorted of food stuffs before him were a testament to that. What was he supposed to do with noodles, milk and a potatoes and an odd assortment of spices? In the end he made them a creamy pasta dish, and it was done by the time Draco stepped out of the shower, which was a testament to how long he had been there. Draco had a blissful expression on his face now that he was clean. Harry has just finished plating the food in two wide brimmed bowls with blue flowers around the edge, and walked to the couch that had been their bed the night before with them.

 Draco met him there, and gratefully took the bowl from his hands.

“And what are you gracing us with tonight?” he asked.

“Just a basic pasta. You didn’t give me a lot to work with.” Harry told him.

Draco didn’t bat an eye. “You are free to go into the main street tomorrow and buy what you see fit, I’m sure.”

“I might just. Although we still have no fridge…” he paused but Draco waved his fork in the air.

“I have resolved that problem. And a few others. While I was within reception I made some calls. We shall be expecting deliveries tomorrow.” He said with a secretive smile.

“Draco did you pay for everything?” Harry said dismayed.

“Well, yes.” Draco answered simply, as if it were no consequence but Harry frowned.

“I’ll need to pay you back then. Especially if you bought a fridge.” He said, but Draco shrugged.

“If you insist on doing it, then of course. But I really don’t mind. I want to help you. I won’t scrub or mop or clean, but I can do this.” Draco looked at him sincerely. He wasn’t throwing his money around, it just galled Harry to think he had dropped a significant amount of cash on something that wasn’t his. Unless Draco didn’t see it that way…

“All right then. I’ll wait and see what you bought though.” He replied warningly. Draco only grinned.

They ate in silence, both of them having built up a decent appetite. Then to Harry’s not quite surprise, Draco fished a bottle of champagne from his bag, and Harry found two champagne flutes in the cupboard. They toasted to the house and after Harry had made a face at the taste of champagne (dry and bitter, but oddly moreish) they settled into the couch gain, slowly making their way down to the bottom of the bottle together. Talk was easy and light and by the time the drink was finished, they were both feeling fuzzy and warm. Once again, they decided mutually to make themselves comfortable on the couch, which was just wide enough for them both. This time, Harry had found a blanket, mercifully spared from any fish moth molestation, and pulled it over them. They fell asleep in minutes, Harry curled around Draco’s back as if they never been anywhere else.

The next day arrived, feeling fresh. Without the years of grime and dusty curtains to cover the windows, the house felt brighter and less like a dead thing. Draco grumbled, not quite awake, and Harry made tea. Slowly they drifted towards wakefulness, and started again with the day’s work. Harry wanted to start on the upstairs and Draco wordlessly helped Harry in whatever room he was in. It became easier with practice. And Draco seemed in better spirits too, possibly because most of the dirtiest work had been achieved.  But Harry enjoyed this side of Draco, which he hadn’t really seen in full force. Draco was even flirtatious, and contrived to touch his waist or brush his hand in passing, even kissing him for the simple reason that he seemed to want to. At one point, Harry decided enough was enough, and pushed Draco against the wall of the passageway to kiss him thoroughly, which Draco returned in kind, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Draco looked at him, flushed but still playful, and told him to get the door.

Mildly frustrated, Harry did so, and saw two men and a delivery truck parked in the drive way. So Draco’s mystery purchase was revealed. Two mattresses, one to replace the one on the four poster and one for the spare, a refrigerator, two deckchairs and some other smaller house hold items. Draco was looking very pleased with himself, and Harry couldn’t find it in him to be upset about how much it must have cost. He knew that Draco had money, and his father gave him free reign on his bank account. Draco expertly directed the delivery men to where they needed the various items taken while Harry just watched. When they were gone, he followed Draco to the spare room, where there sat a brand new plush mattress, along with crisp, new cotton linen. They worked together to put it all on, and Harry was pleased with the pale blue and green striped covering he had chosen. It went well with the iron frame of the bed and the white walls of the room, keeping the elegant simplicity of it. When they were done, Harry reflected that the room felt just that much warmer and welcoming now, whereas before it felt barren.

“I will be so happy to sleep on a proper bed tonight.” Draco confessed.

“Ah, so that’s why you bought a bed then.” Harry joked. But stopped when Draco tuned to him with a glint in his eye.

“Well, a bed can be used for many things…” he started. Harry wanted to grab him and find out what the glint had meant but the door knocked again. He sighed and this time Draco looked mystified. Not another planned surprise then.

When Harry opened the door this time, he saw Bathilda. She was effusively happy once more, and walked in uninvited. Harry didn’t have time to recover when Snuffles bounded in after her, nearly knocking him over. He caught Draco’s eye then, as he was still standing at the top of the stair, and was glad he hadn’t come down. He really didn’t want an annoyed Draco saying something he couldn’t apologise for.

He followed Bathilda, where she was gasping and admiring all the cleaning they had done, commenting on the light coming through the windows and the gleam of the wood. Harry, with presence of mind, stood the back door open, so that Snuffles could move in and out as he pleased.

He didn’t truly mind Bathilda coming over, as she was a sweet kind person, he just wished for better timing. But he supposed that it would simply be this way now that he would be living here, since this neighbour was determined to treat him like some long lost nephew. He took the opportunity to properly thank her for tending his family home all the years, and even offered to compensate her in some way, but she waved it off, citing once again that his parents had been very kind and helpful to her once upon a time, and in any case, she had known Harry as a babe, as if that explained things.

She commented over the now clean photo frames, even taking the time to explain a few particular photos to him, when he told her he genuinely couldn’t remember anything of them. She did try, not very subtly, to find out where he had been in the last fifteen years, but Harry was politely firm in refusing to give her any answers in that area, preferring to keep his privacy on that. When she tried to go upstairs, he blocked her, telling her that Draco was sleeping and didn’t want to be disturbed. She looked put out about it, but didn’t press the issue. She finally made her way to the door, telling him that since it was a lovely day, he might want to take a walk about the village common, and get to know Hexway a bit better. He nodded, saying it seemed like a good idea, and closed the door behind her.

When he turned, he saw Snuffles lying in front of the couch on his side, clearly having made himself comfortable. He walked over to him and rubbed his head. “Well, make yourself at home then.” He said, and the dog heaved a huge contented sigh. He stood up to see Draco having descended the stairs and was eyeing Snuffles warily.

Harry just went for the kill. “We could get some dog food? While we’re out?” he suggested hopefully. Draco rolled his eyes, and muttered something about a ‘hero-complex’ and ‘bloody mutt’ before stalking away to the kitchen to retrieve his keys.

They left Snuffles sleeping in Grimmauld Place, with the back door left open for him. Draco seemed to have become familiar enough with the road by now, though he still grumbled about stones nicking the paint. He drove Harry up the main road and when they parked, Harry went into the grocer this time, and bought actual food as well as some basic cooking aids. For the first time he was glad of his many years of indentured slavery with the Dursley’s; at least he came out knowing how to cook and do basic housework. What they had deemed punishment had actually given Harry an advantage.

 Once everything had been stored in the boot of the car, he suggested to Draco that they take a walk. Draco, far from being reluctant, took to the idea and they began a leisurely walk around the town, down the roads they couldn’t manage with the car. The village was old, and had a laid back, lazy feel about it. Children made an appearance once or twice, which relieved Harry as he had thought there was no one under the age of forty living here at all. People seemed curious and even friendly, as some of them waved. They stopped occasionally for introductions, finding that most of the town knew already that the Potter’s’ son had returned to take up Grimmauld Place again.  Somewhere along their walk, Harry hand found Draco’s, and their feet carried them to the edge of town, where there were more quilted fields and sheep grazing.

They walked back along a different road and to Draco’s delight, found an extremely old bookshop, whose walls sloped and buckled. Inside was the old dusty smell of books and it held nothing if interest for Harry, but Draco was obviously impressed, exclaiming at first editions and obscure poets. It was simply impossible not to kiss his boyfriend just because he was beautiful, just because he could and he didn’t spare a thought for the watching shop keeper.  The feeling of the day also seemed to have infected Draco, because he kissed him back, holding a hand to his cheek as he did so, then telling him to shave. Harry grinned.

They stopped to take in the view here and there, or appreciate a particularly picturesque cottage, or admire the stained glass window on the church front. By the time they got back to the car and made their way home, it was growing dark. In the gloaming, they unpacked the shopping on the kitchen table, happily exchanging comments on Harry’s cooking and Draco’s lack of skills thereof. Snuffles was gone, and had left long shaggy dog hair on the carpet, of which Draco complained but he still unpacked the dog bowl they had bought and filled it to the brim with dog chow. He looked at it sceptically and asked. “Do you think it will be enough? That beast is enormous.” Harry smiled again, his heart full to bursting.

Eventually, Harry had made a decent meal, and they decided to eat it on the veranda overlooking the valley in the two deck chairs Draco had bought. They were extremely comfortable, make from solid wood with wide arms, the seats made from a supple yet sturdy leather. Once they were done, Harry took the plates away, and when he came back, he deliberately moved his chair as close as possible to Draco’s so that he could link his fingers with his. They sat in companionable silence, and Harry imagined they were both completely content then, in that moment. He wanted it to be like this always.

His hands held tight onto Draco’s then, as if he could make it last forever. Draco returned the gesture, and looked at Harry questioningly, but Harry suddenly found he couldn’t meet his eyes. He covered the moment by offering to make tea, then retreating quickly to the kitchen.

He put the kettle on to boil and watched it, all the while trying to curb the sudden hurl of emotions he was feeling. He was happy, but he was just a deeply sad, and it hurt, to have them both. The reason for them being the same, he couldn’t separate them. He rubbed a hand over his face a dragged it through his hair.

“You know, whenever you do that, you look a bit like Snuffles.” Draco spoke up from behind him. Harry jumped a little but tried to recover.

“You mean, drooling and wild?” he tried to joke, but it felt hollow.

“No, just wild.” Draco answered softly, coming to lean against the counter beside him. Harry busied himself with making tea, and tried to ignore Draco boring holes into his face with his stare.

“Harry.” Draco said, his question implicit.

Harry shook his head. “No. Not now, not today. Today was perfect and I want it to stay that way.” Harry said, hoping Draco didn’t hear the much bigger implication in his words.

Draco pushed himself between Harry and the counter then, forcing him backwards but holding onto his waist band and pulling him close again. He kissed Harry then, and he felt himself recover quickly, to start kissing him back.

The kiss felt different this time, newer yet he knew it as well as his own name. Draco’s kisses were always perfect for the moment and confident, but his time there was a touch of timidity in it. The hands that rested on his waist band came up to pull Harry’s neck downwards gently, and Harry found his arms wrapping themselves around Draco’s lean body to hold him tight. He felt like he had been waiting for this kiss his whole life, and he wanted to soak up the experience. It was slow and thorough, and their fingers drifted over each other bodies, leaving small tingling sensations behind.

Draco broke away and let himself be pulled into Harry’s embrace, whispering softly in his ear. “Bed.”

Harry’s heart stuttered and stopped. He held Draco tight but he himself was frozen, suddenly terrified. They had shared a bed before, but he knew that it meant something different this time.

 He knew he wanted to, so badly, but his mind simply froze when he tried to pursue any thoughts further. Draco seemed so strong and confident, yet he quailed at the thought. He pulled away from his lover, dreading seeing his face, but instead he saw there only what he himself was feeling. Draco looked at him with as much uncertainty, anxiety, yet longing that was incommunicable in words.

 It seemed pointless to ask “ _Are you sure?”_ He was sure, Draco was sure, and without ever saying aloud that this was where they wanted to be, they were here. There would never be a more perfect moment than this, now. Still Harry hesitated, and Draco didn’t push him, seeming just as unsure yet willing to wait until sureness came.

“Is this what you want?” Draco asked softly, anxiety in his voice. Harry felt a small, soundless click inside him, and he leaned down again, kissing Draco with as much love as he could express in such a simple yet complex gesture.

“I know what I want.” He answered the slight quaver in his voice unmissable, but holding tightly to his friend, his lover.

The night which followed would reside with them both for their whole lives. It was peppered with beauty, awkwardness, lust and love. The process of which is correct when approaching virginal intimacy, when neither knows what they can do, but only knowing what they want, and their bodies knowing their needs more than their minds. There was pleasure and pain, and tenderness and forgiveness, the breaking of things and the creating of things. The sweet rhythm built of pleasure and the desire to stretch out the moments as long as they could, filled the night. Whispered words and small whimpers, shared between only them two.

And love; there was much love.

The night drifted onwards, stars making their slow progress across the sky, allowing the two lovers their Everest.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is a short one. 
> 
> After this, things start getting kind of hairy.

The next morning, Harry woke with the morning sunlight on his face. He regretted now, not finding time to put up the curtains, but the night before had found its own rhythm and suddenly it hadn’t seem so important. He glanced then, at the body beside him, and felt like purring with contentment. He rolled over, placing a kiss in the centre of Draco’s back, as he was lying face down in the sheets, the covers having slid low to reveal the dip just before the rise of his thigh, and Harry drank in the sight of him.

 He doubted Draco’s skin ever got exposed to sunlight, it was so pale it appeared almost translucent. And flawless. Not a single mole, freckle or blemish marred the perfect, silky skin. It was unrealistic, and Harry wouldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t staring at it. Draco looked unearthly, like a fallen angel. He smirked inwardly at the thought of how many girls at school would melt in their shoes if they ever saw Draco in his full naked glory, his white blonde hair fanned across their sheets. Harry, never having had any appreciation for men before Draco, couldn’t really find anyone to compare him to now, but he knew enough to acknowledge Draco was a handsome specimen of manhood.

If anyone had said to him a year before he would be sharing his bed with a man, and drooling over him like a love struck teenager.... And yet here he was…a love struck teenager. He pulled an arm over his lover’s waist and pulled him closer with ease, earning a slight groan of annoyance from Draco.

“Morning lover.” Harry said in a low voice, kissing his shoulder blade, and breathing him in. He smelled like the combination of love making and sweat, and it was wonderful. Last night, a wall had been breached that he hadn’t known was there, and he couldn’t feel any regret over it, no matter how much certain areas on his body stung in the morning. Other areas were extremely satisfied after all. Finally Draco rolled over, stretching, his blonde hair a pleasant contrast to the paleness of his sunlit skin. Harry arranged himself so that he lay on Draco’s belly looking up at him, all traces of nervousness from the night before a memory only.

“Good morning to you too.” He replied, unable to hide the satiated look on his face. He ran his fingers idly through Harry’s bed hair. Harry closed his eyes with pleasure.

“How are you feeling?” Draco asked him softly. Harry looked up and met his dark brown eyes openly, unashamed.

“It hurts bit. But it will pass.” He admitted. “And you?”

Draco nodded in agreement. “Same. I think we need practice.”

Harry grinned wolfishly. “Gladly.” And Draco laughed with him.

“Can I at least eat some breakfast first?” he asked.

“Does that mean I’m cooking again?” Harry quirked an eyebrow.

Draco stretched unapologetically. “I’ll wait right here.” And Harry pushed off him roughly, and pushed a hard kiss onto his mouth before jumping off the bed.

“You are spoiled.” Harry called from the door.

“How is this news?” was Draco’s response, and Harry chuckled, completely happy with his life.

While Harry made eggs on toast, he heard the shower start. He paused a moment, looking thoughtful, then turned off the stove and kettle, moved the pan off the heat and walked back upstairs. Draco seemed unsurprised when he opened the door to the bathroom, giving him a ‘ _what took you so long?_ ’ sort of look.

“Just in case you use all the hot water.” He said as he climbed into the shower beside him.

 

Again, much later that morning, Harry returned to making breakfast. The eggs he had started before had congealed into an unappetising mess, so he chucked them and started over, whistling. He had never whistled while cooking before, as his aunt had thought whistling was a disgusting affectation. But he didn’t have to care about that anymore. So he whistled. Draco came down the stairs, hair still damp, and when he leaned against the counter next to Harry, he looked like the cat that got the canary. Harry suspected he looked the same. He plated the toast and eggs, and without a word Draco picked them up and walked to the lounge, leaving Harry to follow with the tea. He considered suggesting the veranda, but then thought perhaps deck chairs would be a touch too hard this morning. He sank carefully down beside Draco, and helped himself. He felt strangely unhungry, but knew he should eat so he did.

“I think that the kitchen needs a place to sit. Like a small table with chairs sort of thing.” He said around his eggs.

Draco paused mid bite. “Do you mean a breakfast nook, by any chance?” he asked.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, do I?”

Draco shook his head at Harry’s ignorance of furniture jargon. “I’ll could order us a set. It wouldn’t take too long to arrive, definitely by the end of the week.”

Harry’s mood took a dip when he realised that he would be alone for the delivery of said furniture. The toast suddenly stuck a little in the swallowing. “No, it’s alright.”

Draco seemed to sense the change. He shifted himself right up against Harry’s side and leaning his arm along his thigh, hand on his knee, trying to catch Harry’s eye.

“Love, I don’t want to go, but I have no choice.” He said. Harry felt a bitterness rise in his throat but pushed it firmly down. Draco was leaving that afternoon, he would not spoil what little time they had left. He nodded.

“I know. Its ok, I know. Let’s just enjoy the rest of today, please?” he asked, the note of pleading in his tone. Draco’s eyes looked sad but he nodded back. They were interrupted by a loud barking coming from the back door, and a rattling against the door. Draco jumped then growled in annoyance.

“Bloody mutt.” He muttered, but go up to open the door anyway. Once opened, Snuffles barked exuberantly and tried to lick Draco’s face. He backed away and looked at the animal with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even think about it. This will never that kind of relationship. Go lavish your slobber on that idiot.” He said sternly, pointing a finger at Harry.

Snuffles gave a doggy equivalent of a shrug and went as bid. He almost bowled Harry over in his excitement, barking and licking his adoration all over Harry, who laughed, until he noticed the unfinished eggs and toast. He promptly inhaled them before either Harry or Draco could intervene, and dashed out the doorway again with his stolen meal. Draco was aghast.

“And he finished the bloody dog food!” Draco exclaimed.

Harry stood beside him at the door, and they watched as Snuffles fell over a bit of distance away and began vigorously rolling in the grass. Harry couldn’t help but enjoy the sight.

“I never had a pet before.” Harry mused, hands in pockets.

“You don’t have one now.” Draco snorted. “It’s cupboard love.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s a start.”

Draco looked at him sidelong but said nothing.

The rest of the day passed too quickly. Soon Draco’s bag was once again packed, and he stood by the door keys in hand. Harry sat on the steps, trying not to look forlorn as he felt. Draco too, looked unhappy and a slight bit awkward.

“Harry, help me carry my things?” he requested gently. Harry heaved himself up off the stairs, and carefully picked up the bag. It was lighter than he expected for such a large bag. They walked to the car in silence, and before he could stop it, everything was ready to go.  He stared at his reflection the tinted glass of the car window, seeing his anguished face, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. He didn’t want to make this harder on Draco than it already was.  He took a deep sobering breath, and turned to his lover, who looked worriedly at him.

“Just promise you won’t forget…” what? Everything? Him? He didn’t know what to say.

“Never.” Draco answered, kissing him tenderly. It still felt like a goodbye kiss.

Harry cleared his throat. “I’ll see you at school then.” Where everything would be back to normal, yet horribly unreal. The past few days had more true, more _tangible_ than anything in his life,

Draco sensed that there was nothing more to be said. He got into the car without another word, and drove way before Harry could call him back.

 

The rest of the week both dragged and passed in a blur. Harry, for lack of anything better to do, worked further on the house. The largest task had been the cleaning, but now it came to small repairs here and there, hanging up the new curtains, deseeding the garden shed. The house felt hollower now, as if it was a place designed for companionship, not isolation. But he was nonetheless proud of what he had managed to turn it into, making it more of a home than a building. His sense of desolation was eased when Snuffles made it clear he intended to stay with him, a decision Harry had no problem with. The dog’s companionship was warm and unreserved, although he did demand a lot of belly rubs in the evening. Harry considered putting in a dog door, but decided it was ridiculous since the dog was tall enough to reach his waist. So he merely left the door open in the day times, and gave him the option of sleeping indoors at night time. It worked out for them both.

Harry slept in their bed, but it felt too big.

At the end of the holiday, he was excited to return to school, even though he knew what mountain of studies would be forced on him when he got there. But there were other things to look forward to after all. He made an arrangement with Bathilda, who agreed to look after the house and Snuffles while he was at school, and upon his insistence, made sure she had compensation for it and also made her promise to write down any money she had to spend on the house so that he could pay it back. He had asked someone for a lift the nearest bus station from Hexway, as it clearly did not have one of its own, and mentally resolved that he would find some sort of car when he had a proper chance to do so. With the lightest heart in days, he bid farewell to Snuffles, who followed the Peter’s car as he drove away.


	11. 11

**_ Draco _ **

**__ **

Draco breathed a mental sigh of relief when he let his bags drop to the floor of his prefect’s cottage. The remaining four days of his ‘holiday’ had been pleasant enough, but the underlying tension he felt was exhausting. His mother had been happy to see him, and in the many hours in which his father was _not_ home, they chatted and he caught her up with school trivia and talked about Harry. He still held his reserve, because their relationship was new and they were still feeling their way around each other, but it was good to see her smile when he mentioned him. She seemed especially pleased when he told her Harry would coming to his birthday event.

“So I finally get to meet the famous Harry Potter?” she said and she stirred honey into her tea.

“Infamous, more likely.” Draco snorted. They sat in the manor’s library, its floor to ceiling windows filling the room with light. This was by far Draco’s favourite room, as it seemed directly from a book itself. The plush red burgundy coloured carpet softened any noises, the books filled the shelves and there was a smell of books silently holding their words in. he had spent many hours there as a small child, not always reading, sometimes simply playing.

But his father had been there too, and he had started giving Draco more papers to read through. He demanded his input on their contents, and berated Draco if he failed to notice a legal error or inconsistency.

“You need to put your mind to it Draco. Although no doubt you will have less distraction once your studies are finally over.” He commented.

 Draco looked up, “Father, I thought that you wished me to complete my diploma in law…” he started, but Lucius waved a dismissive hand.

“You complained that I do not treat you like an adult, if I recall. So instead of going to Cambridge, you will come work at the firm, and complete your studies through correspondence.”

 Draco tried again, disbelieving his ears. “Father, I would rather further my education before delving into…”

“You were right at Christmas last, Draco. “His father cut him off. “I regret that you had to point it out to me, but I had been expecting you to behave as an adult and rarely given you the opportunity to do so. So after some thought, I decided this would be the best course of action. I have already arranged it.”  And with that the matter was closed. Draco felt heavy after that encounter, but resolved to bear it with dignity, rather than let his bitterness and disappointment show.

But he would be lying if he said that he hadn’t escaped that house rather than merely leaving it.

School became the refuge, and one he would have only a short time longer. He had no disillusions regarding the fact that once he graduated, he would be firmly under his father thumb. So he would use the last half of the year to its fullest, and that included Harry.

His whole body filled with such a warmth, he was sure he must be glowing, and was glad no one could see the foolish smile on his face. The perfection of the three days they had spent together was a golden memory in his mind. He often relived them. It was his first and only taste of what life might be like, if things were…different. And there was the hushed softness of the night they had spent discovering new depths to each other, and to their feelings for each other. The entire trip had been an extremely emotional one for Harry, and Draco had surprised himself that he could easily lend his lover whatever support and aid he could. But it was this way with Harry. The careful, apathetic Draco became a mere shadow when he was around, and Draco discovered new depths of feeling he didn’t know he possessed. The anguished hurt on his face at their goodbye had crushed him as he drove away.

But he hoped, ardently, that Harry would take the initiative and visit him tonight. And if Harry was anywhere as eager as he was for a reunion, he had better.

Harry didn’t disappoint. However, by 11pm, having heard nothing from him the whole day, Draco was feeling irritable. When the knock finally came at his door, he wrenched it open.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded, roughly pulling Harry inside and all but slamming the door behind him. Harry looked startled, and dammit if he didn’t look wonderful. His intensely green eyes were questioning, his hair tousled by the autumnal wind outside and his jacket was halfway zipped up, revealing a ratty t-shirt. Draco suddenly felt all the tension from the last few days since he had since him culminate.

  
“Draco?” Harry started but Draco didn’t let him finish. He had a burning desire to see Harry unclothed, to rip the ridiculous shirt from his body and tug at his hair. He put his hands on his wide chest and none too gently began to push him backwards towards the bedroom. When Harry tried to talk, Draco silenced him with his mouth, which tasted him hungrily. Harry’s questioning melted away almost instantly, his own eagerness coming head to head with Draco’s. Draco’s hands found his zipper and undid it, roughly forcing his jacket over his shoulders and off, and then pulled the shirt over his head. Harry’s fingers were already working at his shirt.

“Don’t you dare rip a _single button_.” Draco growled and bit at his lip.

Harry made a small sound of pained surprise, but soon had the shirt off, unmolested. His hands came around and dug into the flesh of his backside cruelly though, as if in response to the bite.

“You seem tense.” He commented, but his light tone was betrayed by his quick breath and the way he forced Draco’s hips to grind against his own. Far from feeling put off, it only made Draco more eager.

“Shut up.”

The removal of the rest of their clothes took moments, and Draco was soon atop Harry. He leaned down biting Harry’s neck as he did so, hard enough to make him cry out, but not complain. Draco already knew where this was going but remembered something. He pushed himself away from Harry,

“Wait here.” He commanded.

He ran to the kitchen where his bag still lay abandoned and fished something out. He heard a knock sound at the front door but shouted “Go away!” really not caring who it was. He strode back to the room holding his prize. It was lubricant.

Harry’s lusty eyes looked pleasantly surprised.

“Well, that should help.” Was all he said.

Draco reclaimed his position atop Harry and put it immediately to good use. Without a lot of warning, his allowed himself to slide down over Harry, until he was firmly inside him, and shuddered at the fullness of it. Harry eyes closed and his teeth were clenched, but he didn’t object. Draco began a slow rhythm then, moving past the pain and seeking pleasure, letting it slowly build inside him. Harry moved with him, and twisted his hips in such a way that made Draco groan, as he touched a place that demanded further contact.  As the pressure built him touch Harry, scraped his fingers across his chest, kissing him then biting him. Harry took Draco’s member in his hand, and at the crux point Draco felt the tension finally give way and explode, and he felt his entire body convulse with the force of it. Harry followed suit, grunting Draco’s name as his released followed. They both lay spent, on the bed, which Draco noticed only then, didn’t have linen on it.

When the blackness around the edges of his eyes retreated, and he felt he could push himself up again, he moved to lie beside his lover. They both lay panting. Draco, now on the other side of his tension and frustration, felt slightly ashamed of the way he just used his boyfriend’s body. He looked over at Harry, whose eyes were still closed.

“Um, hello.” he said, still thrumming with post-coital pleasure, unsure if he should apologise.

Harry’s head slowly turned towards his. “Hello.” He said, similarly replete.

Draco’s hand came up to play with his hair in a familiar gesture. Harry smiled a little.

“I may have been harbouring some tension there…” he said slowly.

“And used me for sex.” Harry finished. Draco’s hand stilled, then covered his eyes, feeling a proper sense of shame now.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered.

Harry’s hand came and took his away from his eyes. He was smiling. “It’s alright. Feel better now?”

Draco’s eyes slid shut again, relishing the last vestiges of his shuddering orgasm. “Very much so.”

Harry chuckled. “Just tell me it was not just sex, and I’ll be fine.” He said jokingly, but Draco thought he detected an underlying note of truth in those words. He rolled his body on top of Harry’s then, and gave him a long lingering kiss.

“It’s never just sex, with you. It’s never ‘just’ anything.” He told him sincerely. That seemed to banish all Harry’s worries. The dark haired man’s face cleared and his eyes were merry once more.

“I’m glad to see you too then.” He replied.

“Well, I’ve been practicing with my boyfriend.” Draco responded, happy that he could dispel any fears Harry might be carrying. He got up to shower and when Harry joined him later, their coupling had a much more tender tone.

 

School carried on as always. Their results came, and with it accompanying wailing and gnashing of teeth. Draco was unsurprised but still pleased to see that he had scored no less than 95% on anything. His teachers were just as pleased; they all seemed to be of the same opinion, which was that he would be able to go anywhere he liked with his grades. Where was he planning on going? What would he study? Draco merely shrugged off these questions, feeling that if they didn’t know he would be following the family business they were wither ignorant or oblivious. He told his English professor that he hadn’t given it much thought.

“I find that difficult to believe.” Scoffed Mr. Fall. “In any case, you need to start thinking about it, as the university scouts will be coming out soon and showcasing their schools. All the 7th years are encouraged to fill in their applications then, because if you wait, you won’t get a spot.”

Draco merely nodded at this. He hadn’t told anyone that his father had already charted his life after school. That would mean he would have to admit how disappointed he was in the fact. He had already resolved to make peace with it and embrace it, as much as he could.

“You know Mr. Malfoy, you would extremely well in an advance English major.” His teacher piped up once more.

Draco looked confused. “Sir? What would I do with an English degree?” It was one of the most useless qualifications to have as far as he knew.

But his teacher tilted his head to the side and half shrugged. “You could write. You have the talent. Or teach. Perhaps at a tertiary level though, as I doubt you have the temperament for high school. He added the last with a knowing glance, making reference to Draco’s impatience with slow intelligence.

Draco blinked. The idea was so alien to him, it would never even have occurred to him as an option. Not that it was anymore. His options were limited to what his father decided they were.

But the thought burrowed its way into Draco’s brain. It came up at odd moments, such as when he was reviewing the new papers his father sent, and he found himself thinking that if he could stare at legal documents for hours looking for small inconsistences in terminology, he could just as easily read and critique English essays, and likely with more enjoyment. When he read his set works or textbooks he wondered what kind of literature a college syllabus would offer. He idly looked over university courses online, seeing what kind of subjects he would be learning, and found himself longing to be able to delve into a literary pursuit of knowledge such as what would be offered to him if he ever did study English. But, time and again, he would resolutely shove the ideas away and close his laptop, sighing in frustration and longing at what could never be.

But then Harry became involved too.

One night, when he and Harry were taking a break between assignments, Harry asked him what colleges he was planning on applying to.

Draco truly didn’t want to discuss the subject, so he turned it around. “Why, where are you planning on going? Actually, come to think of it, you haven’t told me what you were thinking of doing?”

Harry gave him a shrewd look which told Draco his segue hadn’t been unnoticed but answered anyway.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, since last term. And now that the scouts have been I got to ask some questions. And I think I want to go to Cambridge. I want to study prosthetics and orthotics.” He answered, looking thoughtful.

Draco went blank. Of all the things… Harry mistook his look however.

“It means study how to create prosthetic limbs and…”

“I know what it means.” Draco interrupted. “But I confess to be quite surprised.”

Harry shrugged, grinning that same self-deprecating grin. “Well, my marks aren’t brilliant, but if I can keep the science up above 805 then I can get into the course. I looked at the cost, and I can easily afford it.”

But Draco waved his hand in an ‘ _explain this to me’_ gesture. “Why?”

“Well, like I’ve told you before, I wasn’t really planning on doing anything after school. I didn’t have any interests beyond sports. “Draco snorted but Harry ignored him. “So I just started thinking about it. I don’t have a lot of talent, but I knew I really wanted to help people. And one day I saw a flyer at the library, asking people to donate any spare prosthetics. I was curious though so I called the number and just asked them why, you know?” Harry’s face grew more animated. “Did you know that there are loads of kids who needs prosthetics and can’t afford them? They can’t play sport, or exercise or even go to a normal school because they need a legs or an arm or a hand, but they just can’t afford it. Prosthetics are expensive. And army veterans too. The government doesn’t really provide enough money for a guy who got his legs blown off to get something like that. So I just looked into it. I have the right subjects for it. If I keep my grades up I can apply and get in, apparently they are always looking for more people to do this. And it means I can help people.” He looked at Draco’s face, his smile so wide it stretched his face.

Draco was stunned. He had never heard Harry speak about anything with so much animation before, his interest lit his face up like fireworks. He as clearly so excited about the prospect of his choice of study, and Draco envied him powerfully in that moment.

“That’s…wonderful, Harry. Really.” Was all he could say, around the green jealously coiling in his stomach.

“And you?” Harry asked pointedly. Draco saw he wasn’t going to be deterred.

“Oh well, I have decided to study law.” He told him the half-truth, but couldn’t fake the same joy at the idea as Harry had. Harry’s eyebrows came together.

“Like your father.” He said flatly.

Draco’s stomach clenched, in both annoyance and depression. He knew Harry understood his life situation, but he couldn’t make him like it.

“Yes. And Harry, the last thing I want to do is fight about it, so could we please get back to work?” he replied with a note of pleading in his voice.

Harry’s looked apologetic but still mulish. “I will let it go if you do one thing for me.”

Draco grew suspicious. “What?”

Harry pulled a slightly crumpled set of papers from his school bag and gave them to Draco. Draco took them and saw they were the application papers for several universities.

“I’m sure you’ve applied for law already.” Harry bit out, but smoothed his expression “but just humour me. Apply for anything other than law.” Draco sighed. “Why? There’s no point.”

“Just for shits and giggles. For me.” He replied.

Draco glared at the pages as if they were taunting him. Then put the carefully aside.

“Alright. Then you get off my back about it.” Draco said and began his work once more. Harry smirked.

The term rolled onwards. Draco kept up with his work and that which his father had given him in much the same way as he had the term previously, which was by getting little sleep and pushing himself hard. He barely had time to notice the way his social circle had changed, but he did vaguely. There were only 5 other students now, all in is house, who cared to associate themselves with anymore. It was a relief, as none of them were very demanding company. He came to know them slowly, and found he enjoyed their characters more because they weren’t faceless sycophants anymore. They sometimes exchanged basic social banter in their common room, but sought no more than that. However he had a strange encounter one evening, from one of them. His name was Blaise Zabini; and his parents were wealthy oil tycoons. They lived in Dubai but sent their son to the school for its superior education, but Draco suspected it was more so that their son would align himself, and them by extension, with the children of the wealthy and powerful of Britain. He as quiet and a hard worker and Draco didn’t begrudge him the company when he sat beside him one evening in front of the common room fire.

“What’s that you’re reading?” Blaise asked, his accent slightly coloured with his Indian origins.

“‘On Crime and Punishment.’” Draco replied, not looking up.

Blaise must have looked confused. “Is that a set work?”

“Not for you, only for advanced English.” Draco replied.

“Ah” Blaise said. “Any good?”

Draco pointedly put a bookmark on the page he was busy with and closed the book, before turning to Blaise. He knew he wasn’t the most feared student in the school any longer, but it didn’t mean they were suddenly friends. “It’s a commentary on the rise of sado-masochistic practices in the 18th century and how it gave birth to homosexual fetishism.” He told him. Blaise’s eyes opened comically wide.

“Blimey, that sounds a bit rough.” Was all he said. Draco rolled his eyes and made to keep on reading, hoping Blaise would get the message, but he clearly hadn’t.

“Um, I went by your cottage, the other night.” He said in an awkward tone.

Draco gave him a sharp look. “The other night…?”

Blaise looked distinctly flustered now. “Yeah, the first night of term actually.”

“Why?” Draco asked him flatly.

“Um, I just wanted to, um, ask how your holidays went…” Blaise trailed off the light of Draco’s stare.

Draco looked at the boy across from him. He recalled now, the knock on the door that night. “Oh yes, I think I recall. I was in middle of a shower.”

Blaise blushed hard, causing his dark complexion to turn blotchy. Draco observed coolly, but internally was surprised. Surely he wasn’t a prude? He had seen him call out some very sexually inappropriate remarks to girls in the past.

“S-sorry about that.” He stammered, Draco was taken aback by his reaction.

“Don’t think on it. It was late, so I wasn’t expecting anyone. And in any case, you shouldn’t be out that late.” He replied.

Blaise flush deepened then.

“Potter is always there that late.”

Draco had to work at keeping his composure at the mention of his lover’s name. Instead he heaved a bored sigh. “Potter is my pupil, and also has special permission from his head of house to be there. He is also fulfilling my social responsibility requirement. “Draco let a note of warning creep into his voice. This wasn’t anyone’s business.

“People say things…about you two…” Blaise continued.

Draco felt angry now and let it show. The gaze he turned on Blaise could have snapped steel. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I am fully aware of what people say. It is the mark of an evolved man to not let himself be swayed or directed by vicious and ugly rumours founded on nothing.”

Blaise quailed in his seat.

“Potter is my friend, and if you would prefer to remain in my acquaintance, please endeavour not to waste my time talking about what really and truly is, none of your business.” Draco hissed at him. As he stood up to walk away, he couldn’t be bothered to care that he had practically excommunicated another of his dwindling supply of ‘friends’, and he thought about it no further.


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where things start going wrong....

**_ Draco _ **

With the natural turning of season, chilly autumn gave way to a cold wet winter. It rain more than snowed, and the grounds were wet. He was glad that unlike Harry, he would not have to go out to play sports for the schools entertainment, though Harry seemed to relish it. He often caught a glimpse of his face after a hockey match, his eyes bright with exertion and nose red with cold, being hero worshipped by his team mates, and Draco felt only fondness, as well as gratitude that he wasn’t expected to attend any of the games himself. He saw no attraction in freezing his arse off in the cold to cheer on a group of boys crashing into each other. But Harry loved it, it was plain, even when he came out of it worse off, with a cut on his brow or a bloody nose, and in one instance, a sprained ankle. His only complaint was that it still didn’t get him out of doing his school work.

As the sleet turned to proper snow, it brought the festive season with it. Which also meant Draco’s birthday would be coming up. Draco had already been in conference with his mother about its arrangements, as much he could over the phone and with little time available. But his mother took the reins on it gladly. She wanted it to be special it seemed, but Draco only envisioned another party which would have had far too much money thrown into, full of people he didn’t know or like, while his father paraded him around introducing him to important people. The only thing that he looked forward to about it was that Harry would be there.

Although the thought made him excited and anxious at once. Harry would finally see his home, meet his mother and be with him during something special. But also, Harry would be exposed to the stiff collared, claustrophobic high society life that he lived in. He knew Harry would not fit in, and the thought was both pleasing and worrying, a feeling that Harry seemed to share. Yet, in spite of that worry, Harry still wanted to come, and Draco selfishly agreed.

The holidays came and Harry was to stay at the school for the first week, and only arrive at the manor on the actual weekend of the event, one day ahead so that Draco could make necessary preparations. The night before term break he had laid out his careful plans for Harry, so that he would know what to do. He knew it would all have to happen correctly, and was agonising over a detail, when Harry put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Harry with worried look.

“Draco, is this a mistake?” he asked.

Draco rubbed his temples. He realised just how anxious he was about Harry coming to his home, mingling with his social circle, meeting his parents…and it must have been showing while Draco made step by step instructions for Harry to follow. But it was going to be pointless if he couldn’t find some measure of calm about it.

“No. I am sorry, Harry. I’m just chasing my only fears around in circles. I want you to be there.” He assured, wanting the words to be true for them both, and ignored Harry’s lingering look of concern.

However, by the following afternoon, the eve before the party was to happen, his nerves were back in full force. He tried not to pace anxiously across the floor of his rooms. Harry was due to arrive any minute by taxi, Draco had thought it made a better impression if he arrived independently than if he had picked him up at the bus station. But as the time had drawn near, questions grew in his head like weeds. What would Harry be wearing? Would Harry like his family home? Would he make a good impression on his mother? Could he somehow avoid his father meeting him altogether? His thoughts echoed Harry’s words, had this whole idea been a monumental mistake?

But his mother was looking forward to it, and he couldn’t begrudge her this. She would hide their secret as she always had.

Such were his nerves that when he spied Harry’s taxi arrive, and him step out of the car, he couldn’t even feel relieved at his presence, he only looked over his attire to make sure it passed muster. To his meagre relief, Harry was dressed in his best clothes, which was today clothes with no holes or rips in them. He watched as Eustace went out to meet him, bidding him to follow him up the manor steps and inside. Harry’s face was inscrutable, so Draco couldn’t gauge is reaction to anything he saw just yet.

He readjusted his shore-necked jersey for the umpteenth time, making sure the cuffs of his shirt sleeves didn’t peek out from the edges of the sleeves. He spared a brief moment to acknowledge how ridiculously nervous he was, and tried to marshal his demeanour before going downstairs to meet his guest. His heart stopped for a moment, when as he rounded the curve of the banister, he saw his mother had already beaten him down and was exchanging introductions with Harry while Eustace had already disappeared with Harry’s bag. It was only the fact that it would extremely undignified that prevented him from rushing down the marble staircase.

“It is good to finally meet you Harry.” His mother was saying warmly.

Harry inclined his head graciously. “And you,  Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for inviting me.”

Draco approached and his mother turned to include him.

“Ah Draco, you were late in greeting our guest, so I had to step in.” she chided gently.

“Thank you mother.” He responded in an emotionless voice. “Has Harry been shown his rooms?”

“No he has not. I was about to escort him myself, and now you can join us.” She responded, leaving no room for Draco to object.

 He nodded to her and caught Harry’s eye. “Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Harry.”

Harry smiled an easy grin. “It’s my pleasure, Draco.” His name from Harry’s mouth left a warm feeling inside him, but sounded alien too.

They walked in the direction of the library. Narcissa took the time to ask Harry about his school term, his studies, his sport pursuits; making light conversation came naturally to her. It wasn’t hard for Harry to return her politeness, Draco noticed. The dark-haired boy didn’t seem awkward or struggle to keep his place in the conversation, he and his mother continued their talk all the way through the house. It took longer than it might have to get to the guest room, as Narcissa Malfoy would often stop to point out a family portrait, or inform Harry on the garden view from this particular window, and Harry responded with easy comments ,asking questions of his own, showing interest. Draco knew his own silence must be conspicuous, but neither of them tried to force him to join the conversation, so Draco followed with mixed feelings of irritation, admiration and relief.

When they finally reached the door to his rooms, his mother let them in, and Draco watched Harry start upon seeing Eustace unpacking his things for him. His mother noticed too.

“Eustace is Draco’s butler, but will be performing his duties for all the guests’ tonight.” she explained.

 Harry nodded, grinned uncertainly. “I don’t think anyone has ever unpacked my bag for me before.” He told her in explanation.

“I am not surprised. I am aware of your circumstances.” She told him. Though she wasn’t looking at him so she didn’t see the shock on his face. “You will receive no judgment from me, Harry. Every man must, at some point in his life, choose to be what he himself creates, rather than what others have told him to be.” She turned to them both, a congenial smile on her face. “Please make yourself at home. I will see you at dinner.”

And with those oddly profound words, she swept out. Draco mentally shook himself, still feeling stressed. He walked past Harry to show him the room itself.

“Here is the bedroom, but you have a private bathroom through this door. Your window has the north facing view, and you would usually see the gardens but I’m afraid all you’ll see now is snow and more snow.” He babbled as he walked around the spacious bedroom. “If you need anything brought to your room, you need only use the phone here. Thank you, Eustace that will be all.” He said as the butler bowed slightly and left. “If you would like not to be disturbed then you simply hang this on your door.” He handed Harry a large gold tassel on a looped cord. “But if there is anything else you need, just…” he tapered off when Harry walked back to the door, draped the tassel over the handle and closed it.

He turned to Draco, with an unreadable expression. Draco gulped and forced his hands into his pockets, afraid they would start shaking. As Harry walked slowly up to him his heart started to hammer painfully. While Harry’s presence usually did this, it wasn’t pleasant this time. The shrill clamouring of voices in his head was growing louder by the minute…

But Harry stood right in front of him, and slowly wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling Draco gently close. Draco clenched his eyes tightly, trying to calm himself. Why was he falling apart?

“You look like you’re strung tighter than a fiddle.” Harry told him, and Draco felt his chest rumble with the deep tones of his voice. Draco returned the simple embrace, sinking into it. He unclenched his teeth and focussed on normalising his breathing. Harry’s warmth and stillness was a fixed point in a storm, and he felt calm for the first time that day.

“I am. I don’t know why.” Draco admitted, his voice muffled by Harry’s jersey

Harry stroked a calming pattern on his back. “Is it because I’m here?” he asked.

Draco felt himself stiffen, but didn’t pull away. He wanted to lie but… he sighed. “Yes.”

Silence. Harry didn’t respond, so Draco went on. “But that doesn’t mean I regret you coming. This is just…”

“Big.”

“ _Yes_.”

Harry nodded, and Draco felt his face scrape against his neck. It was oddly comforting. “I know. It’s alright. We will have fun, drink drinks, and make polite conversation. You’re just a bloke who invited a friend to his party. It’s not like I’m the only one.”

Draco knew that was true. He had invited the five others who he had decided to consider friends, their families included, to dilute any perceived preferential treatment of Harry. But still, Harry was the crux of the matter. Having Harry here should have been wonderful, but he found himself nursing a growing flame of fear in his gut. As if something dreadful would come of this insane idea. Harry must have felt him retensing, as he pulled his arms tighter around him.

“Draco, “his voice infinitely understanding. “Do you want me to leave?”

Draco reacted immediately. “No! Absolutely not. It would look suspicious if you left without a legitimate reason, especially when people know you’re going to be here, or have seen you arrive, and my mother would be disappointed.” He rubbed at his temples. “No, you can’t leave.”

Harry pulled away then, and didn’t meet his eyes, looking rather at the floor. “We can make up a reason.”

Draco saw that his answer had only hurt Harry and he felt the burden of his words. “I don’t want that. I honestly and genuinely and _selfishly_ want you to stay.” He told him fervently.

Harry looked at him sidelong then. “You sure?”

Draco nodded sternly to himself. “Yes.”  

Harry kissed him lightly. “Ok. I like your mom, so I wouldn’t want to disappoint her after all.” He teased.

When he had settled Harry he walked back intending to go past the kitchens to find out what the menu was for dinner. His mother however, met him there, having had the same idea. She looked up.

“Draco, perfect timing. Does Harry have a particular preference for meals? Any allergies?” she asked him, setting down the page she had been holding.

Draco considered it for a moment then shook his head, a small grin on his lips. “No, he’s like a goat, and eats anything.” He replied. His mother returned the smile at the joke, but stood up.

“Draco, I need your input on decorations for tomorrow night. Since we are celebrating both Christmas and your birthday, we need to make sure nothing clashes too horribly.”

Draco followed his mother. His steps were more measured and felt less nervous energy crawling in his veins now that Harry had settled him, though it wasn’t gone completely. He absently touched his lip with his thumb, remembering Harry’s quick kiss minutes prior.

“Draco, my darling.” His mother said, breaking into his thoughts. “You need to be careful.”

Draco’s feet slowed. “I beg your pardon?”

His mother slowed to match his pace, but didn’t stop. She spared him a sympathetic glance. “Draco, I know you have told me how careful you two have been to be discreet, but having met him, I feel I have to warn you. Anyone with eyes to see would notice your feelings for one another.”

Anxious flames flared in his belly.

His mother noticed and hastened to amend her words. “Perhaps it is only because he knows he does not have to hide it from me, and you also, but if you are to keep up this charade for the duration of the party, you need to make sure you play your parts extremely well. Your father will be here.”

“You think Father would notice?” Draco whispered hoarsely, all his fear back to full force.

She shook her head. “I doubt it. As astute as your father is in the legal realm, he is oblivious to anything that is outside his immediate area of interest and expertise. But there will be other eyes, and tongues to wag.”

Draco swallowed, resolving to speak to Harry before the party the next night. His mother touched his hand however, in an effort to give him assurance.

“But that is tomorrow Draco. Tonight, it is only us. We will not have to pretend tonight.” she said.

But Draco couldn’t help but feel as if he would never ever stop pretending.

-8-

The birthday event finally arrived, and Draco’s nerves were frayed and he was agitated. His mother obviously noticed because she gave him a sharp look, which told him to behave. Even though she had developed more maternal feelings towards him, she was an ultimately a Malfoy, and he knew she would expect him to play his part, as his parents would have used the opportunity to invite many prominent socialite families; those who would feel slighted at being ignored, those who stood to gain from the invite, those from whom they stood to gain from inviting.

 He had decided, his mother’s words still ringing in his ears, to write rather than peak to Harry about making sure their efforts at appearing nothing more than friends were at their most diligent. Harry replied briefly, but agreed to it, and Draco put his energies in making sure everything was perfect. He obsessively cleaned his rooms, and took a renewed interest in his mother’s arrangements, taking over some of the tasks. He felt far more like Draco Malfoy a year prior, icy and ruthless. The staff scurried to do his bidding, and he even was short was Eustace. In his mind he felt the nudging urge to apologise, but dismissed it for a later time. He had to rise above the trivial matters, for some reason this night seemed far more important than a simple birthday celebration. It didn’t feel like a celebration at all, only a circus performance that had to be _perfect_.

When guests began arriving, he retreated to his rooms to bathe and dress. He had sent Eustace to Harry with the clothes he had selected for him for the evening. He wished he could have helped in person, but it all seemed too risky now. So he dressed alone, making sure he wore the cufflinks his mother had given him. As always, he looked immaculate in an expensive ensemble that boasted its quality without looking garish or inappropriate to his age. As he straightened the collar of the silk blend shirt he wore, he saw himself in his entirety; he was a tall, lean young man now.  His appearance reflected the image he wished to portray; wealthy, aristocratic, intelligent and a gentleman. He looked cold. Oddly, he wondered what Harry saw in him. Wasn’t this all he was, at the end of the day? He was merely the product of his name, of his parent’s desires and machinations. He shook his head of the morbid thoughts, knowing he needed to be of a clear mind tonight.

The game was afoot.

And it began with no hesitation. As soon as he descended the staircase, he was greeted by his mother, who in turn led him to the entrance way of the great hall, where the party was to be held. He was plunged into introductions. Calling up a polite smile, he faultlessly remembering the names of every person with whom he shook hands before they could remind him, earning him flattered reactions. He was courteous, flirtatious, and professional. He talked of trivialities and business ideals, made small talk with wealthy housewives and short fat business moguls. He made sure no one was wanting for anything, including his company.

He walked throughout the evening, the lights garish, the sheer amount of money represented in this celebration was staggering. But he accepted every birthday wish with grace and a few words. At some point in the evening, hours in, he managed to find a quiet moment where he could retreat to the shelter of an enormous Christmas tree festooned with giant green and gold baubles, gripping a glass of champagne. He blessed the fact that alcohol flowed freely tonight. What the hell, he was eighteen in a week after all. He gulped down the drink, regretting that it was so little, even though he knew he needed a clear head. Outwardly he was a pristine as an ice sculpture, but inside he felt frazzled, like his edges were unravelling. Hours of inane conversation, most of it truly boring.

Everyone assumed his interests were in the legal realm, and thus that was all they spoke to him about. It was dull, but Draco told him had better get used it, as there would be no variations from the theme after his graduation. He groaned and looked for another glass, hopefully full of champagne.

“Here.” Said a voice.


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart guys. this one really hurt me.

**_ Harry. _ **

**__ **

He held the glass out to Draco, as he looked desperate for it. The entre night Harry had been watching him move from person to person, making conversation, saying things they wanted to hear, being clever and witty, or cool and business like, whatever the occasion called for. He had never truly seen Draco in full swing, being the social and political butterfly he was supposed to be at these occasions, and he was awed. Draco was _incredible_ , flowing with ease from person to person, knowing all their names, stories and knowing exactly what he needed to say in the situation. It was like an elaborate dance in which he knew all the steps, and looked graceful doing so.

But Harry could see the signs of strain. Draco had been tightly strung from the moment he arrived. Far from being something he could enjoy, the entire weekend seemed only to cause him stress and unhappiness, and Harry strove to do as little as possible to make it worse. Even though it stuck in his craw to do it.

Harry was surprised by his own reaction. He had never felt any kind of resentment towards Draco before, about their arrangement. But he had stepped out of the taxi after it had travelled up the mile long driveway to the manor, and seen the palatial building that Draco called home. He hadn’t even known houses could be so large. It could rival the school for its grounds alone. When he had been led inside by the butler (another strange thing), he had remind himself that letting your jaw fall open as considered rude. However, the years spent with the Dursley’s had taught him how to make his face like a blank canvas, and he used the odd little skill now. The entry way led up to an enormous curving staircase, above which hung a sparkling chandelier. The tiles below his feet were set in an intricate pattern of small triangular tiles in dark red and off white. Other sign of affluence were everywhere, and when Mrs Malfoy had shown him through the house, highlighting little details, he was nearly overwhelmed but the sheer presence of wealth, and what it meant to come from a family name that was old and established.

He liked Mrs Malfoy, although she had introduced herself as Narcissa, Harry couldn’t imagine calling her by her first name. But she was warm in a distant sort of way, and Harry found it easy enough to talk to her. She made no mention that she knew of the relationship he had with her son, only asking normal polite question you would ask any new acquaintance. But the fact that that she _did_ know, and still she treated him as a welcome guest, and that spoke volumes to Harry. Especially knowing what he knew of Draco’s family. And when she had told him that it was up to him to become the man he wanted to be, to choose it, he felt intense surprise. To say something so profound that told him she knew his life story far more intimately than he expected, and felt the need to impart the kind of advice she might give her son. Harry still held onto those words, as no one had ever given him parental advice born out of an affection before, and was therefore precious. He suspected Narcissa to be far more astute than people thought she was. He saw where Draco got it from.

But Draco had been…cold. Distant. Harry understood his tension and worry, but it made Draco pull away from him. Harry knew that he was the cause. Draco was too afraid of discovery. Harry being there made things extremely difficult for Draco, and without being told, Harry knew Draco regretted inviting him.

It had seemed like a sweet idea at the time he suggested it, but the fact that Draco could barely be around him without nervously snapping was a clear message. Harry tried not to feel wounded, but he was. And with it came unfamiliar resentment. He had thought that after they had been together in Grimmauld Place, after he had shared his grief and brokenness…after Draco had spoken about the house as it was _theirs_ …

Harry warred within himself. He felt selfish for expecting Draco want what he wanted, for them be more, but another, newer voice, spoke now, telling him he should want _more_. That he _deserved_ more. But he reigned it in, thinking that it was only because he was intimidated by the wealthy life from which Draco came. He looked at it and knew that a life with Harry would never come close to this level of luxury. And in any case, Harry didn’t crave riches or fame, and that ambition seemed at odds with the future Draco would pursue after school.

But then the evening had arrived. Draco had sent his butler to help him put on the unfamiliar clothes, and his newfound insecurity whispered to him that if Draco wasn’t ashamed of him, why did he insist on buying him new clothes for this occasion? He recalled Draco looking determined when he told him he would make it a priority that he fit in. The words now sounded different in his recollection. Not said in love, but in embarrassment. It didn’t matter that the clothes looked good on him, he only saw a costume he had been asked to wear, so that his lover might save face. Harry recognised the thoughts as whiney and petty, but the fact that Draco maintained his distance and seemed to grow ever colder only fuelled the nasty little voices.

But he couldn’t stop himself from hungrily seeking out a glimpse of him whenever he could. He knew no one, and the other students Draco had invited stayed within their circles, which suited Harry fine. The huge party was strange to him, and Draco’s anxiety had made him afraid to put a foot wrong, say the wrong thing. So he let himself hide himself in the shadow of the staircase, where no-one gave him a second glance. But he watched Draco, dancing his way across the great hall, his grin alternating between affectionate, flirty and welcoming. He, as usual, looked magnificent, elegant and devastating, and in spite of his pouting feelings he still longed for him.

But he resolved to not let it show, as Draco’s mail had told him to. So he took the freely offered glasses of champagne when they floated his way, frowning at the bitter, dry taste, but drinking it anyway. He was on his 3rd glass when he spotted Draco moving behind a large Christmas tree, and he finally saw a moment.

He walked up circumspectly, holding two glasses, and when he saw Draco was pressing his empty glass against his forehead, his face looking worn and tight, he felt a stab of shame that he had been thinking such uncharitable thoughts about him. It was just an act, all of this distance, this smiling, acrobatic dancer among the guests, just an act. A face he had to wear. It was just as hard for him as it was for Harry, more likely harder. His resentment didn’t disappear though, but diminished to a low simmer. He held the glass out.

 “Here.”

Draco almost jumped out of his skin, looking at him with eyes that were full of fear. Harry was shocked. Was Draco so afraid of what people might think, that the mere sight of Harry made him fearful? They both stood there, both stunned into silence. The moment was broken when Draco looked behind him to see if anyone could see them, and it stung Harry that he did that. He had thought they could at least act as friends did.

 But Draco took the glass and said “Thank you. I really need this.”

Harry nodded and pulled his hand back, pushing it into his pocket. The feeling of tension between them was unfamiliar and awkward and Harry was growing to hate it. But before he could say anything, someone called Draco’s name, and he left with a brief, apologetic glance. Harry couldn’t help but feel the hurt inside hit hard this time, and it began to morph into anger. He swallowed his champagne in one gulp, before finding another.

The events that happened an hour later, were likely not improved by the fact that he had drunk the equivalent of a bottle of champagne by himself, with only a few miniature sausage roils to cushion the fall.

He was idly walking along outside, letting him feet lead him. He had come to the conclusion that this whole idea had been a total waste of time. No one cared that he was there, least of all Draco. He may as well be a fly on the wall, for all it would mean. As his walked meandered around the garden path, away from the party itself it grew quieter. It was full winter now and very few people would venture outside unless to smoke, and definitely not so far out as he was. He came out because he began to feel the force of the champagne he had consumed making his head dizzy, and the cool air helped a bit. But he heard a rustle of leaves, and scuffle of feet. He came upon them before realising how close he was, two figures struggling against a neatly cut privet bush.

 When he saw who it was he reacted without thinking.

His arms came up fast, and dragged the first figure off the tall blonde one with easy motion, alcohol lending him strength. The man, taken by surprise, sprawled into the damp snow on the path. Harry strode up to him without even thinking, and his fist came around and landed with a meaty _thunk_ on his face, and he heard a crunch. It was the same angry prick who had tried to attack him in the corridors the previous term. Suddenly he understood all his hissed words.

“ _Faggot_ , wasn’t it?” he panted, lifting himself up off the figure, who stayed down, a look of pain and fear on his dark face, his nose trickling blood. “Well, let me tell you, _faggot_ , that if you come near him again, ill break more than your nose. _He is mine_.” He spat.

He turned to look at Draco. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Draco face was a mixture of shock and undiluted fury. “What the fuck Harry!” he shouted. Harry felt his hackles rise.

“What do you mean, _what the fuck_? He was kissing you!” he screamed back.

“I wasn’t kissing _him_! It just happened! Fuck, now you’ve broken his nose…” Draco dragged his hand through his hair staring at the boy beneath them, who stared back eyes wide. Harry felt all his alcohol fuelled rage take the helm.

“Who the fuck cares about his nose?” he bit out. “This idiot attacked me last term, telling me to stay away from you. Do you know him?”

Draco gave him a seething look. “Yes, of course I know him. His name is Blaise Zabini. He is in my house, he is at my party, and you, you bloody idiot, just hit him in the face. Now I’ll have to field questions…” he rubbed at his face agitatedly. “This was so _stupid,_ Harry.” He told him savagely.

Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. Suddenly, it all became clear.

“Fine.” He told him and walked away.

 

**_ Draco _ **

He glared after Harry’s retreating back, but before he could follow him, he had to deal with Blaise. He spun on his heel and fixed him with a look of pure venom. The idiot had lured him out here, in the freezing cold, all to force him into a disgusting kiss? And now Harry was livid…

“We are finished here. And so is our acquaintance. I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, but whatever it was your tiny brain was trying to achieve, it failed. Do not ever, ever presume to even look in my direction again. And if you ever speak of what happened here tonight, I will find ways to make your life extremely unpleasant and difficult, and I assure I will do it with ease.” He told him, his loathing clear in every syllable.

Blaise looked at him like he was a wounded puppy. “Is what he said true?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows. Draco almost hissed.

“It has never been, and will never been, any of your business.” He said and began to stride away.

Harry had gotten quite a head start, but Draco’s longs strides allowed him to see his broad shoulders disappearing in the direction of the west wing; he was going to his rooms. Draco hurried to catch him. He finally arrived at his room, and quickly closed the door behind him, then turned to see Harry was packing his bag.

Draco moved to stand in front of him. “Harry what the hell are you thinking?” he demanded, but Harry moved past him to get something from the bathroom. When he returned Draco caught a smell and added. “How much have you drunk?”

“Not enough.” He answered, infuriating Draco.

“Can you even grasp the kind of fuss Blaise will make to his parents? If he reveals anything…” Draco shuddered at the thought, but was already making contingency plans in his mind.

Harry threw a toiletry bag into his gym tote, with force. “Sorry, then.”

“You are so obviously _not_ sorry.“ Draco retorted.

Harry stopped then, fists clenched, eyes closed and rolled his shoulders as if trying to release the tension there. Then he rolled his face towards Draco meeting his gaze dead on. “No, I’m not.”

Draco was taken aback. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he had to do damage control. “Harry, I thought we agreed…” he started.

“We did.”

“So what…”

Harry paused again then turned his whole body to him this time. “I saw him kissing you. I stepped in because no one but me should be doing that. I don’t care who knows it.” He told him in a low voice.

Draco felt exasperated, and a thin thread of unease uncoiled in his belly. “Harry, you know we can’t let anyone find out…”

 “No.” Harry said flatly, and Draco eyes narrowed.

“What?” he replied in an icy tone?

“I said no.”  Harry zipped up his now packed bag. “I’m sorry Draco, but I can’t do this anymore. I thought I could, but after this weekend, I see that I can’t. Today its school, a party, but what about after we graduate? Are we going to keep this up all the way through to University?”

Draco steeled himself, knowing he had to be honest with Harry now. “I’m not going.” He said.

Harry was wide eyed. “What?”

“I am not going. My father has organise a position for me in the firm, and I am going to study correspondence while working my internship.” He said, hands on his hips and glaring at the floor. It was just the truth, and the disappointment he felt with it was useless.

Harry’s voice shook slightly, with anger or something else, Draco couldn’t tell. “You’re telling me you aren’t going to further your studies, but going to work for your father instead?”

Draco merely nodded. “It the most expedient and time effective course of action.”

“Fucking _robot_.” Harry said venomously, and Draco head snapped up to meet him eye to eye.

“I am _practical_ , and I have responsibilities, you arrogant _prick_.”

“Arrogant? That’s rich coming from your mouth, Draco.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You have always known who I am, you can hardly take offense.”

“It’s not all you are. You told me that.” Harry replied forcefully, his voice almost pleading with him to remember those more childish days. Draco’s temper snapped.

“It is. Maybe it wasn’t then, but it is now. I have nothing else.” Draco words were angry, but his own feelings of bitterness surfaced anyway, and Draco felt disgusted by the weakness of it.

“Draco, it’s not all you have. You have _me_. You have _us_.” Harry tried, his words punctuated by the thuds from his fist hitting his chest.

Draco shook his head. “We are not children, this isn’t some false, sickly sweet romance novel. This is real life, and it’s time you realised that.”

 Later, he would remember those words, and he would suddenly realise exactly how much like his father he sounded.

But Harry was shaking his head, and now he looked defeated.

“No, I’m done. I’m not willing to be your dirty little secret for the rest of our lives. Hiding from everyone, hiding from your father. As if that was _normal_.” He sounded bitter. “I want more. I want us to be everything we could be, and we won’t ever get there if I’m stealing time with you like a criminal.” Harry looked at him, his heart in his eyes. “I love you and I’m not ashamed of that, I don’t think it’s wrong.”

Draco tried to find words. “Harry, I never said it was wrong, but my life isn’t my own, I cannot change the way things are.”

“Bullshit, Draco. You are one of the most powerful people I have ever met, and it’s not because of your name or you money but because of who you _are_. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t going to university?”

Draco folded his arms across his chest. “Because I knew what you would say.”

Harry looked at him hard, eyes almost pleading. “You’re going to work doing something that doesn’t have any interest for you, just because your Father says so. What’s the point Draco? To be successful? You are a puppet, and you father pulls the strings! Don’t you even see how cruel it is, not even to let you choose? To essentially force you to work for the company just because you’re his son? How many choices are you going to let him make for you? For the rest of your life? Will he choose your wife for you? Your children’s lives?” he shook his head. “You are so much more than what he tells you that you are. What’s keeping you here?”

Draco tried to find a response. “It’s not that simple Harry. I have responsibilities, unlike you. Even if you can’t understand them, they are still the realities of my life and I can’t ignore them to come and live in a domestic bliss with you!” Draco tone was caustic, but Harry’s eyes showed both hurt of acceptance.

“You’re right Draco. The cottage, I want that. I want us to have a life together, one where we aren’t hiding. I want to wake up next to you, and argue with you, and cook for you and find ways to make you laugh. Don’t you remember how good it felt, just to be together?”

Draco swallowed but couldn’t let himself be swayed. “Real life isn’t like that Harry. It doesn’t stop just because you spend three perfect days alone.”

“It wasn’t just some holiday from reality!”

“That’s _precisely_ what is was!” Draco shouted back, because the pain of acknowledging the fact was far sharper now that he had shown how good it could be. “My reality is going to work in and study law! I can’t just settle for less…”

Harry looked slapped. “Less? Is that how you see it?” he eyes became watery but he kept pushing. “How could you say that a life together would be less? Is it because you would have less money? Because you wouldn’t have to work in a job you hate? Because you’re every waking hour wouldn’t be filled with demands and pretences? Is that settling?” he shook his head in disbelief.  “Before this weekend, I had half convinced myself that maybe you would want the same thing as me, that you would hate this huge, elaborate lie.” Harry hand waved wildly. “But now… I can’t spend the rest of my life trying to be enough, and always failing. And that is what this will become, if we carry on this way.”

Draco couldn’t answer him. He was reducing it too much, it really wasn’t so simple…

 He signed then, and picked up his bag. “I know what I want Draco. In spite of everything, I _choose_ you. But I can’t wait around waiting to see if the next thing your father tells you to do if never see me again, or who to marry. I deserve more.” He paused. “We both do.”

And with that, he walked out the door.

It was in a daze Draco returned to the party. He tried to focus but his mind felt like it was filling with sticky cobwebs. It muffled sound and thought. He stepped into the hall, barely feeling the ground beneath him. Something monumental had happened, but it hadn’t caught up with him yet. The party went on still, although it was close to midnight. Some guests tried to wish him happy birthday but he found it difficult to respond appropriately, he couldn’t quite concentrate on what they were saying. His mother saw him from the corner of her eye, then turned her head fully, trying to send him a message with her expression, but he couldn’t really understand that either. The cobwebs were spreading from his mind to his body, making his feel numb and unreal. Perhaps it was the champagne?

He was still aware enough however, to react to his father’s unexpected presence at his side. It felt as if he brought the cold from outside with him. He nodded in acknowledgment of his son, who nodded back.

“Happy birthday Draco.” He said, raising his glass in his per functionary way.

“It’s only in a week.” Draco remarked distantly.

“It makes little difference, when all things are considered.” Replied Lucius. Draco inclined his head in agreement, feeling too hollow to reply.

 “I have to go, I’m afraid. I have a client meeting in Dubai in four hours.” His father said.

Draco voice had no inflection. “Of course father. Would that be Richardson?”

“Indeed. He is a thorn in my side, but once his motion has been filed, I’ll hand it over to Roberts. However, I am pleased I could observe you here tonight. You have shown my faith in you to be well placed.” Draco’s sense of proper behaviour nudged him and he politely turned to his father with a questioning look.

“Try to spend some more time with Alisson Creevy. I know she is a bore, but since you’ll be working for her next year, you should get to know her character better.” He went on.

“Of course.”

“Have you arranged for your studies to be correspondence?” Lucius asked.

“I have begun the process, yes.” Draco answered, his voice still flat and emotionless.

“Very well. On a slightly related note, I need to speak to you about your personal guests this evening. In particular, Harry Potter.”

The cobwebs halted their insidious progress at the words, and all of Draco’s focus was pinpointed on his father.

“Harry?” Draco answered his voice finally sounding like something other than sterile.

“Yes. His character has been brought to my attention. I understand that he has inherited a considerable fortune and is also the golden boy of the school with his sports talent, so I applaud your efforts in befriending him. He would make fortuitous connection to us, including the firm.” Lucius went on, though Draco stayed silent.

“I also hear you have become his tutor. While this is admirable, it’s not necessary at this point. You reputation is set, you need not paint yourself the hero. And it seems that while you may have a professional relationship with him, he has other ideas. “

“Excuse me?” Draco hearing his words from the end of a long corridor.

“It seems that he is enamoured with you. I have asked some of the teachers at your school and they confirm it. And so while you may only have been taking pity on a less fortunately gifted student than yourself, you must end the relationship. You should not be associated with such people.”

Draco felt tight when he replied. “Such people being?”

“Homosexuals, Draco. Don’t be dense.” His father replied impatiently.

A slight pause, then Draco said. “Of course, father.” Was his simple reply. If Lucius noticed any change in Draco, he said nothing.

Draco however heard the cold confirmation Harry’s prediction minutes earlier, and the feeling of portentous dread which had been lingering since the moment Harry arrived, finally crashed down around him with his father’s icy words.

He managed another half-hour after his father’s departure. Eventually he sought out his mother, citing that he had a headache that he could no longer ignore, and could she excuse him from the party. Normally, he doubted she would have, but perhaps it was because he was older now, or because she saw something in his face, but she let him go. He retreated to his rooms, the noise of the party fading away, and by the time he reached, he could have been alone in the manor, for it was quiet and dark. Only the lamps in the hallways to light his way. He pushed open the door lightly, still feeling untouched by anything that had happened, like he was simply observing himself from the outside. He undid his tie, and carefully folded it, placing it on the back of his chair. That was when he noticed the gift.

It was a medium sized, box shaped present, wrapped in jolly Christmas themed paper, and had a bow on the top, with a card. With wax hands he opened the envelope; the card read

_Slink,_

_I know you’re only 18 in a week, but I won’t be there to give it to you then after all. Don’t be a grown up, just open it now._

_Etch_

The card ended off with a drawn heart.

He carefully undid the wrapping, only tearing when it couldn’t be avoided. The box was a plain cardboard, so he couldn’t decipher its contents until he opened that too and unpacked it.

 His hands began to tremble.

 It was a Chinese clay tea set. Draco laid it out carefully, letting his fingers touch the charcoal coloured clay of the teapot, its matt surface worked smooth with expert hands. The bamboo handle of the tea ladle shone from polishing, not varnish, and the two handle-less tea cups matched the pot. They all sat perfectly atop a tray of the same clay. Inside the tea pot it was a small packet of tea leaves and a tea strainer.

And a small, folded note.

His hands now trembling in earnest, Draco lifted it out and unfolded it. Through misted eyes, he read its handwritten contents.

_This came after the tea set, after you left.  I wish the words were mine, but they belong to an obscure poet that you’ve probably heard of, but I haven’t. Anyway, the point is, she wrote the words, but they spoke for me. With all my love, Harry._

**_Home_ **

**_Home_** **** __  
is the recognition of a face  
which, in being seen  
'once',  
is the same as 'always

  * _Serena Derori_



Draco’s hands could hold the page no longer, and it fell to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the next few are gonna hurt too. ANGST.
> 
> Songs:
> 
> Say Something - Great Big World  
> The Writing's on the Wall - Sam Smith


	14. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry confesses to his friends, finally.

**_ Harry _ **

Harry’s taxi took him to Ronald’s house. He often spent Christmas there, with his family, along with Hermione. Harry went because it was no hardship for him to miss any time at home, and Hermione went because her family lived too far away for such a brief holiday trip (which suited Ronald just fine). Ronald’s family were extremely welcome; he was the youngest in the house, with an older sister who played international soccer, and was home as often as not. But his mother treated Harry like an extra son, and always made sure there was a surplus of food in the house when he visited.

It had always been the plan that he go there after Draco’s party, but he was torn between wanting companionship right now and rather wanting to be alone. But it was easier to pay the cabbie to drive there than it would have been to arrange a way to get to Grimmauld Place in the middle of the night in Christmas season, so it as decided for him. He leaned his head against the cool glass and tried not to cry, telling himself he had done the right thing. But it hurt so much, he wondered if he wouldn’t better off having done the wrong thing instead.

By the time he got there, it was late and he was a mess. He felt enormous regret, and desperately wanted to call Draco and apologise, and he kept taking his phone out and putting it away again. In spite of the fact that his heart felt broken, and that he had once again left Draco behind in the worst way, he knew that to go running back to him would be to lie. And he just _couldn’t_.

But the anguish he felt was rending him to pieces. When the cabbie pulled away, leaving him with this bag on the doorstep of the face brick house, he didn’t go in; he collapsed on the step with his head in hands, not caring that the cold was turning his extremities numb. But he wasn’t allowed his reverie for long, as the minutes later the door opened, shaking frost off the wreath hung on its face.

“..I’m sure I heard a car- oh Harry there you are!” he heard Hermione’s voice behind him. He tried to wipe his eyes and nose.

“What on earth are you doing sitting out here in the cold? Your arse must be frozen… _Harry_ , what’s wrong?” her voice went quickly from cajoling to concerned; she had seen Harry’s tear streaked face and red eyes.

He shook his head, not trusting his voice. She came to crouch beside him.

“Harry, its ok. Um, ok, we can’t stay out here, but I’ll get you in and upstairs so no one sees you, ok?” she said and Harry nodded gratefully. They stood together, Harry grabbing his bag and Hermione pushed ahead of him through the door.

“It’s Harry all right, but he’s in his cups. I’m just going to take him to bed.” Hermione called out to the assembled family. Harry was careful not to look in their direction, but let her direct him upstairs, to the room he shared with Ronald. He trudged up two flights and gingerly sat down on the bed, still staring at the floor.

 He was truly wretched, and wished he _was_ still drunk. Hermione didn’t leave though, instead sitting beside him on the bed. Wordlessly she put her arm over his shoulders. He didn’t lean into it, but could slump into his hands once more, tears squeezing out of his eyes. Hermione must have been shocked, because for once she wasn’t talking. Harry let the tears fall, as there seemed to be no point in stopping them, watching them making dark little stains on the wooden floor between his feet. His muscles were tight with controlled sobs that he refused to give voice to, so he held his breath, trying to keep the storm at bay.

Barely a minute had gone by when the door burst open.

“You can’t be that drunk if…” Ronald’s voice started off jovial but tapered off when he took in the scene of Hermione arm over Harry’s curled up form.

“Close the door Ronald, for goodness sake.” Hermione snapped at him in a quiet voice.

 He did, saying “What is happening? Did Malfoy do something to him?” his voice was immediately accusatory. He had never been able to get over his mistrust of Draco.

“I don’t know. Harry hasn’t told me anything.” Hermione replied softly.

More silence.

“Harry?” Ronald asked uncertainly.

 Harry shook his head, and told him quietly. “No, nothing happened.” Which was a total and utter lie. The tears increased their force, and his hands dug painfully into his scalp.

“Harry, you have to tell us what’s going on!” Hermione cried out in alarm.

Harry debated in his head. He wanted to be alone with his misery, but at the same time, he badly wanted his friends to know everything. Months and months of secrecy had boiled up inside him, and had resulted in his break up with Draco. It had only brought them both hurt and misery. It had always been a dumb idea. If _only_ he hadn’t gone to the party, if only Draco hadn’t come to Grimmauld Place….Everything had been a dumb, stupid, _fucked up_ idea.

“Alright, but you’re going to need to sit down.” He told them thickly, and sniffed hugely. Hermione held a handkerchief in his line of vision, and Harry was struck with a déjà vu so painful, he had to fold his hands across his stomach and lean forward with the breathlessness it left in its wake.

“Holy shit mate, you’re in a state.” Ronald sounded uneasy. Harry could easily imagine him and Hermione sharing looks between them, Ronald desperately miming at her to ask her what to do, Hermione waggling her eyebrows manically telling him to shut up. The thought brought him back from the edge, and he fought to calm himself.

They remained quiet while he breathed in and out, and eventually sat up straight. Or at least as straight as he could. The sobs were still there, but years growing up in an emotional prison, where even the slightest outburst from Harry would land him without a meal, had taught him how to reign it in. He sighed, feeling like his head was thick and heavy.

“Ok, so I’ll tell you two everything. But you can’t leave before the end, and you can’t say anything until I finish.”

They both nodded, still looking concerned but now also curious.

He removed his hands from his hair, and clasped them before him, focussing on them. So he started at the beginning. The way they had met, the fucking handkerchief. Then the library visits (Hermione’s eyes widened at this, and Harry wondered if she was putting clues together). Then he told them the one night it had turned into more.

He didn’t pause at their gaping mouths, their complete and utter shock. He forged on, telling them about the secret meetings, the long weekends, the anonymous email accounts and nick names they had thought were so cute and clever. And then Draco’s plan to change the public version of them, why he had begun being ‘tutored’ by Draco. Then about the week at Grimmauld Place, the real reason he had refused to let them come, as they had wanted to. Ronald frowned at that, but maintained his silence.

Then he told them about the party. About his slow burning resentment and frustration, how things had come into perspective for him, about Draco’s coldness and fear, about his father, and what had finally culminated in him leaving the party after saying ugly words and breaking his own heart.

Silence ensued. Harry had been looking at his hands for the majority of his story, and continued to do so now. In revealing the biggest secret that had dominated his life for the last year and a half, he was making himself vulnerable. He truly had no idea how his friends would react. It was a huge thing to take in. Finally Ronald spoke.

“I need to think.” He said.

Harry shrugged and said “Alright.” And with that Ronald got up and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Hermione, however, stayed a bit longer.

“I think you should sleep, Harry. We can talk more tomorrow.” She said kindly.

Harry shrugged. While they hadn’t outright rejected him, tomorrow might arrive with him minus his two best friends. But Hermione squeezed his hand and left as well. He was left alone in the room. He lay down on the bed made up for him, ignoring Ronald’s empty one in the other corner of the small room, staring at the ceiling. Ronald had never minded sharing his room with him, not since the first Christmas he visited, even though it made the already cramped room more so.

The story telling had somehow purged him a little, and he no longer fought back tears. But he also felt empty. He wasn’t sure how long it took him to fall asleep but he must have eventually.

The morning arrived, though Harry only knew it because the room was getting slowly lighter. He realised he must have been staring at the window for some time before really waking up. He felt awful. The crying had left his eyes scratchy and the champagne had left his head pounding and mouth tasting foul.  He groaned as he turned over, as everything from the night before came back to him, and along with it, the aching he felt in his chest. Again he forced himself not to reach for the phone and check if Draco had sent him a message or called him, or to write one himself begging and pleading forgiveness. It wasn’t a matter of pride, it was dignity. He had spent a lot of time in his life feeling he was worthless, and he never wanted to be there again. Not even for love. He saw it much more clearly now than before, but that only made the pain sharper.

His groan however, woke Ronald, whose room he shared. He must have come in after Harry fell asleep. Ronald lifted his arm and banged on the wall above his head, which connected to his sister’s room next door in which Hermione slept. After half a minute, Hermione had pulled the door open and sat on his bed, while Ronald himself groggily pulled himself up. They had long ago set up this signal to stop Hermione barging in on them while they slept the mornings in. Instead, the knock told her they were awake and she was welcome, whereas before she would have been chased out with pillows. So often had the three of them spent their Christmas holidays there, the act was now automatic.

“About time.” Hermione complained, making herself comfortable on the end of the bed. Ronald grimaced and shifted his legs so she wasn’t sitting on them.

“I would have slept in longer, but Harry’s groaning woke me.” He told her.

“The fact that you sleep past Seven AM is ridiculous.” Hermione chided.

“The fact that you don’t is mad. We’re the sane ones, enjoying our youth and weekends.” Ronald retorted, indicating Harry and himself.

Harry felt the tightness in his chest ease a bit. It couldn’t be so bad then, if they were still bickering with each other like any other day. He sat up and looked at them, pushing his hair from his eyes. They both met his gaze and Harry saw no judgement there. But Ronald, surprisingly, was the first to speak.

“We have questions.” His eyes darted to look at Hermione as if for confirmation.

Harry steeled himself. “Alright then.”

Ronald looked just as nervous as Harry felt. “Are you gay then?”

Harry sighed internally. He could trust Ronald to be blunt and he had sort of expected this. He pushed at his hair again. “No, I don’t think so.” He answered. “It’s just…him.” He couldn’t bring himself to say his name.  But he couldn’t help but to fold his arms tight over his chest, and close his eyes trying not to think about him.

“I’m sorry mate, I don’t understand what you mean.” Ronald said honestly. Harry tried to think of a way to explain it.

“Ok, so say you love someone, right? Love not like. You think about them all the time, you just want to be around them, you think everything they do is the most amazing thing ever, just because it’s them doing it. Right?” Harry looked at Ronald and saw the lightning quick glance at Hermione’s face, though she was looking so intently at Harry she didn’t see it. Ronald’s face flushed a little and he answered; ”Yeah.”

“Well, when you love someone like that, you get a day when you realise that really, nothing else matters, that your whole life will go on and pass you by and you will still be loving this one person. It doesn’t matter if they are short or tall, black or white or purple, clever or stupid.” Harry swallowed. “Boy or girl.”

Ronald was looking at him like he was seeing something else in Harry he hadn’t known was there. Harry looked down and fidgeted with the blanket. “That’s as good as its going to get, that’s the only way I know how to explain it.”

Ronald nodded slowly. “Alright.” He said thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t care either way. You’re my best mate after all, it doesn’t matter.” He stopped and added. “Just like you just explained.” Then his face fell. “Except not like that. You know, you’re fit and everything, um, not that I’d notice, but you’re a bloke, and my mate...” Ronald got more flustered as he went on. Harry gave him an incredulous look, then laughed out loud. Hermione gave him a withering look.

“Honestly Ronald, Harry doesn’t think you’re interested in him. He just told you this whole long story about how he just got his heart broken and you think he is worried if you think he’s fit?” she lectured.

Harry snorted again, because it was comical, but then her words sunk in and the moment of levity evaporated. Ronald stopped spluttering. “Yeah, sorry.”

Hermione turned to him then. “Harry, why didn’t you just tell us?”

Harry looked at her, and willed himself to be as honest as he could. “I think at first because it was fun. It was just our secret, and that just made it better, for some reason.” He sighed. “But also because it wasn’t just my secret. If anyone had found out and used it against him…” Harry pressed his lips together, knowing exactly how much it would have cost Draco to be discovered. How close he had come to discovery already.

“But you said his mom knows?” she pressed.

“Yes, but she found out totally by accident and it was a huge bullet we dodged. The fact that she didn’t expose us, or force us to split up…” he couldn’t carry on, but Hermione got the idea.

Silence settled again, and Harry played with the corner of the bedspread which frayed slightly.

“Well, that explains a lot of things I suppose.” Hermione finally said.

Both Harry and Ronald responded at the same time. “It does?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and the gesture was so much like Draco, Harry had look away. “Harry, you may have thought no one noticed, but subtle you are not. All those sudden visits to the library late at night, coming in late to classes? And then you walking around with a stupid smile on your face like you had just won the lotto, whistling all the time. I think I even saw a hickey on your shoulder once. I knew you had found someone, I just thought it was a girl you were too shy to tell us about yet. Or something along those lines.” She said in a matter of fact voice.

Harry’s fingers slowed. “So you knew.”

“Well, yes, but I obviously had no idea it was _Draco Malfoy_. No one would ever guess that. You two hated each other for most of your school careers.”

“Yeah I suppose so.” But now he wondered if everyone had been so surprised at the thought of him and Draco. Suddenly, being attacked by Blaise Zabini made sense. He hadn’t been the only one who had loved Draco in secrecy. He rubbed his forehead, remembering how he had broken his nose the night before, his possessiveness taking the reins in that moment. And then he closed his eyes tightly recalling how Draco had laid into him for it, and the conversation that followed.

“None of it matters now, at any rate.” He told them, unable to keep the hoarseness from his voice. All the pain he that had crept away in his sleep came back and scraped against his raw nerves. Hermione got up and sat beside him. Even Ronald got out of bed, deciding to sit at the end of his bed in solidarity. Hermione once again wordlessly held Harry’s hand while held back the tears.

“Is it really over?” she asked, her voice sympathetic.

_Is it really over?_

Harry gave in. “Yes.” And could no longer hold back the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I painted Harry and demisexual here. And his heartbreak is very real.
> 
> Just listent ot his song while you read, for maximum feels.
> 
> Looking too closely - Fink


	15. 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short one.
> 
> My heart is squinching.

The Christmas break ended, and Ronald and Hermione saw him through it.

Harry returned to school with his friends, but not without foreboding. Hermione and Ronald nursed him through his heart break, and even Ronald’s family seemed to know that he needed to be handled with care, though they never asked why. When Harry finally gave in and checked his phone, he saw that Draco hadn’t contacted him, which was for the best but also incredibly hurtful. Yet Harry knew the ever practical Draco Malfoy would have decided the most expedient course of action would be to cut off contact completely. This knowledge however didn’t stop Harry from dreading the sight of him around the school grounds.

But he needn’t have worried, he realised bitterly. Draco seemed as eager to avoid him as Harry and it appeared they were both definitively set on writing each other off as quickly as possible. Harry tried not to feel betrayed. After all _he_ was the one who had drawn the final line, but Draco’s wordless acceptance of it confirmed what Harry had suspected; that ultimately, Harry would never have come first. He hadn’t even tried to stop him leaving. It was better to end things now, while he a shred of dignity left.

It wasn’t lost on him that this was the second time Draco had broken his heart. The second time that being very place where he and Draco had spent so much of their love affair was torturous. The second time everything reminded him of him. The second time that is like constantly walking through thorns. But everything felt so much worse this time.

 He had invited Draco into every part of his life whole heartedly, he reflected morosely, and it still hadn’t been enough. It would never have been. Or so he kept reminding himself, when the heart ache got too much and he would hide himself in a bathroom stall his hands clutching his hair so hard his scalp tingled after. Or run the track on the school field until his lungs burned.

He continually struggled with his school work, even more so now than before, but Hermione helped him with an understanding sympathy. She knew what he wanted to study and that his acceptance into his chosen field of study depended on his marks meeting standard. Even though Harry’s marks had been acceptable enough before, he was simply floundering in the emotional fall out from losing Draco. It was good timing that their final exams were coming up, and he could blame his hermitage in his dorm room and being rather poor company in general on stress. He knew he was depressed and heart broken, but only Hermione and Ronald knew why, and they kept his secret with the devotion of long standing best friends, making excuses for his morose behaviour when required.

 

Luckily, it would not be long for them. Seventh years wrote their final exams mid-way through and average school term, and were not required to attend school after they had finished, their results sent to them in the mail if they requested it. They had to return and be present for their graduation when they would receive their scrolls. It was a dim light at the end of this nightmare, but he knew that as soon as he had set down his pen on that final paper, he would be gone and would be holing himself up in Grimmauld Place to be miserable in peace. He refused think of anything other than those facts; school work, exams and Grimmauld Place.

One ordinary day, when the winter chill was giving way to spring breezes, he saw him. Harry was taking a short cut through a quad on the northern side of the grounds to get to his next class, when he spotted him. He was giving a speech of sorts to what seemed like the following years recruits for prefect ship, though he was standing far enough away that he couldn’t hear. He saw him first, and quickly hid behind a pillar, so that he wouldn’t be spotted in turn. But he couldn’t stop himself, he let himself peer around the column to see the tall, blonde love of his life.

He was, as ever, aristocratically beautiful in his full prefect uniform. His heavy lidded eyes were reading off a page in front of him, his expression bored. Harry took in the straight line of his shoulders in a blazer, the balanced stance of his feet, the way his perfectly styled hair brushed just the edge of his collar; his small act of rebellion.

 His voice rose and fell with his words, every gesture coordinated and well timed; at one point he must have made some small joke, because his audience shared small’s laughs, grinning and glancing at one another. They were, as Harry was, enraptured by him. Even if he hadn’t been completely besotted with the man, he wouldn’t have been able to ignore him. He still found is astonishing that he had never really seen him before they had begun being friends. Harry had tried a few times to get Draco to understand just how captivating he was when he showed this side of himself, this innate ability to capture an audience, a charisma few possessed, but Draco had never taken him seriously. No wonder Lucius Malfoy wanted his son under his control; people would flock to him and fight wars for him, if he wanted it.

So long was Harry staring at Draco, that it was a moment before he registered that the group had been dismissed and Draco as now folding away the sheet of paper he had been holding and was bending down to pick up his school satchel. When he turned to leave, he saw Harry, who was no longer hiding.

 Time froze.

 Harry felt like the earth had lurched, and he would fall over if he didn’t catch his balance again. But their eyes were locked for a very long time. So long, that Harry was tempted to speak, to say anything…

But Draco turned and walked away, without a word. His expression had been as blank as a stone. Harry was left feeling far more desolate than before.

And resolute.

That afternoon, he got special permission to go into town and get his hair cut. When he sat in the chair and the barber asked him what he wanted, he simply said, “Just take it off.”

When the barber was finished, Harry saw he hadn’t quite made him look like a soldier off to war like he had been expecting, but rather giving him a short but more modern cut that made his hair close on the sides and longer on top, cut in a gradient . With his naturally wild looking hair, it must have looked half way decent, or so he assumed from the appreciative looks the female hairdresser was sending him. His square jaw stood out more now, as did his green eyes, as they weren’t hidden behind a curtain of shaggy fringe.

He didn’t feel sexy or good or happy, just sad. He paid and left. Hermione and Ron raised their eyes when they saw him. He hadn’t cut his hair more than what was absolutely necessary in the entire seven years they had known him. Hermione eventually commented faintly that it looked good on him, but Harry just shrugged, as he really didn’t care about how it looked.

The term plodded on and Harry was grateful to throw himself into studies. Not that he was alone in this. There wasn’t time or room to think on anything else. The pressure mounted and some of the less able students became hysterical and had to be sent to the nurse for rest or tonics. Harry buried himself in it however with single minded determination. He could pretend to himself that it was for the noble reason of achieving the best he could for his university application; he knew it was because it stopped him thinking about Draco so much. He worked himself to exhaustion, until he could barely keep his eyes open, and fell into bed and deep, restless sleep.

When Hermione came to join him at the common room fire one night, while he pored over his science notes, she mentioned that Draco had been taken out of school. Harry felt his shoulder muscles twitch at the news but otherwise showed no reaction. Hermione sat for a moment longer, but couldn’t seem to find the courage to say whatever it was she was thinking, and eventually she sighed and walked away. Harry stared at his notes, but once again reminded himself of that day in the quad, when _Draco_ had been the one who walked away. He had made his decision, dispassionately and practically. Harry had to respect that, and stay away. For his own good. He put Draco from his mind that night by going outside and jogging until he couldn’t anymore.

The exams arrived. Harry did the best he could, revising with Ronald and Hermione in the evenings and writing again the next day. Slowly the numbers dwindled, and eventually disappeared. The evening their final exam was done, his house threw a party in celebration. Naturally someone had smuggled in alcohol, the cheap nasty kind. There was laughter and banter and the cathartic throwing of copious amounts of hand written revision thrown into the fire. Students signed each other’s shirts with sentimental messages. Some students even chose to visit their favourite teachers and thank them.

 Harry saw none of it, and experienced none of it. He was already on a bus to Hexway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gnash - I hate you I love you


	16. 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short. The next one will follow very soon.

_**Harry** _

After a 3 hour bus trip, and another hour added on when Harry couldn’t find anyone to take him to the end of the lane, so he walked, which he didn’t mind. His worldly possessions took up the space of one gym bag and one wheeled case. He made lonely figure in the twilight, bowed and shoulders hunched but determinedly stepping the road which took him home.

He arrived at Grimmauld Place when it was full dark and only stars to lend their weak, glittering light. Harry paused at the view from the front steps which looked over the valley. Away from the urban light pollution, true dark was a lovely, somnolent thing. He couldn’t see the valley at all, but he could sense it in the way he could feel the huge empty space stretching away in front of him. Finding his keys and unlocking the door, he stepped into the house but not turning on any lights. With very little sound or effort, he dropped his bags, walked to the couch and went to sleep.

Harry spent the next month building.

He built the house up; well, continued the repairs he had begun a few months before, which included giving most of the cottage a new coat of paint. He built his relationships with the people of Hexway, since they were going to be his new neighbours. He reconnected with Bathilda, who as always was very happy to see him, and Snuffles, who was ecstatic, and wasted no time making Grimmauld Place his new home. Even Bathilda commented how much the dog seemed to take to him, in a way he hadn’t favourite anyone else so far. Harry suspected it was because no one had really made the effort to give him any affection. Dogs were simple that way; you love them, they love you, that’s all you needed really. Everything else was just extra.

He built up his new life. He managed to find a second hand truck, which was rusting in so many places it wasn’t even worth trying to fix. But it worked and took him around the small village of Hexway, and sometimes to the neighbouring town, where he went when he needed things Hexway didn’t supply. Snuffles usually rode with him. He had completely adopted Harry and fitted in with his life without demand. Harry never called for him or forced him to do anything. He was free to come and go as he pleased. Sometimes he would ride with Harry somewhere, only to jump out the window half way through on some urgent errand of his own. He would always return though, and every night he and Harry would sit together on the veranda, or in front of the fire, if Harry felt the whim to build one.

 The canine seemed in tune with Harry’s simplest wishes, mostly when the nights seemed longer than usual and the loneliness too heavy, Snuffles would push his snout into Harry’s hand, allowing Harry to grasp his ruff tightly, wordlessly. He always left the kitchen door open for him in the night.

Harry couldn’t sleep in the spare bed. And somehow, after everything that had happened, sleeping in what he knew had been his parents room was no longer a terrible invasion, the breaking of some crystal idea. It was a just a room. He bought new linen and new curtains. He packed his clothes in the wardrobe and made it officially his own. But he ignored the spare bedroom.

He never made tea, but craved it every day.

The weather was changing more drastically now. One particularly clear, warm day, bored of working inside the house, he began to tackle the garden. Though Bathilda had kept the worst of the greenery taking over, she wasn’t a gardener. Though Harry couldn’t boast the title either, he resolved to tackle the lush plant life with enthusiasm if not expertise. He was fighting a bougainvillea bush that had been so much giving free reign, it was devouring the other plants around it.

 Harry had removed all his clothes but his jeans, and was already regretting it, as the bougainvillea had already given him several cuts across his chest and arms with its very long thorns. He stumbled backwards out of it, dragging the branches he had cut off and swearing. Throwing them unceremoniously on the pile he had made so far and threw the shears beside it, he sucked at a cut on his palm. That would be hard to cover and he knew it would sting for days, and he thought about going inside for a break when he heard the crunch of tires on the gravel of the driveway. He made his was around the front of the house, still sucking on his hand. When he came into view, he slowed and stopped.

Draco Malfoy stood leaning against the side of his silver Lexus, looking straight at him.

 

 ** _Draco_**.

Draco stared as Harry came into view. He was topless, sweaty, and streaked with dirt, sucking on his hand like it had been injured. And his hair…the new short style was something boys their age tried to impress girls, and often ended up looking like the had shorn their heads and forgotten the top, but on Harry broader face, with its wider planes, set off by the two a clock shadow, it was extremely well placed. Draco almost lost his courage and got back in his car. Instead he crossed his arms more tightly across his chest, willing himself to stay his ground.

Harry stopped when he saw it was him, and stayed, a few metres away from the stone wall and closed gate the separated the driveway from the house. His face showed surprise, which Draco expected, then shut down completely, showing nothing at all. Draco felt his confidence, already extremely weak, waver. Now that he was here, staring at his former lover, all the things he had planned to say seemed doomed to wither before they were even spoken.

So they stood and stared at each other. Draco couldn’t help but recall the last time they had stared each at each other across the quad. When he had seen that Harry was about to attempt to bridge the divide between them, and he had fled before the dark-haired boy could.

But things had changed since. And he could only hope it would be enough.

Fortunately, the stale mate was shattered when that enormous mutt crashed through the hedge beside him and landed on the gravel beside him, shaking itself vigorously and then glancing his way.

Draco knew a moment’s fear. He hadn’t been very friendly to the creature when he had last been here, and it might intend on returning that sentiment…but Snuffles walked up to him, tail wagging and pushed his snout into Draco elbow, forcing him to uncross his arms. As soon as he did the dog reared up on its hind legs, planted its huge muddy feet on his chest and licked him. Draco was too shocked to react. This was not how he had imagined this would go at all.

Having made his point, the dog leapt over the garden wall and bounded up to Harry with deep bark. Harry let his hand be persuaded into a brief head rub before he got bored and went on his next doggy endeavour, leaving them alone once more.

Draco raised a hand to his cheek and gingerly wiped away the dog slobber, trying not to think about it. He met Harry’s eyes again, and this time, there was the glimmer of a question there.

Draco decided it was better to rip off the band aid.

“I left.” He told him. Such simple words, confessing so much. “I have nowhere else to go.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the song.  
> I have a whole playlist for this shit.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=58TBZnvyGwQ

**_Draco_**.

Draco stared as Harry came into view. He was topless, sweaty, and streaked with dirt, sucking on his hand like it had been injured. And his hair…the new short style was something boys their age tried to impress girls, and often ended up looking like the had shorn their heads and forgotten the top, but on Harry broader face, with its wider planes, set off by the two a clock shadow, it was extremely well placed. Draco almost lost his courage and got back in his car. Instead he crossed his arms more tightly across his chest, willing himself to stay his ground.

Harry stopped when he saw it was him, and stayed, a few metres away from the stone wall and closed gate the separated the driveway from the house. His face showed surprise, which Draco expected, then shut down completely, showing nothing at all. Draco felt his confidence, already extremely weak, waver. Now that he was here, staring at his former lover, all the things he had planned to say seemed doomed to wither before they were even spoken.

So they stood and stared at each other. Draco couldn’t help but recall the last time they had stared each at each other across the quad. When he had seen that Harry was about to attempt to bridge the divide between them, and he had fled before the dark-haired boy could.

But things had changed since. And he could only hope it would be enough.

Fortunately, the stale mate was shattered when that enormous mutt crashed through the hedge beside him and landed on the gravel beside him, shaking itself vigorously and then glancing his way.

Draco knew a moment’s fear. He hadn’t been very friendly to the creature when he had last been here, and it might intend on returning that sentiment…but Snuffles walked up to him, tail wagging and pushed his snout into Draco elbow, forcing him to uncross his arms. As soon as he did the dog reared up on its hind legs, planted its huge muddy feet on his chest and licked him. Draco was too shocked to react. This was not how he had imagined this would go at all.

Having made his point, the dog leapt over the garden wall and bounded up to Harry with deep bark. Harry let his hand be persuaded into a brief head rub before he got bored and went on his next doggy endeavour, leaving them alone once more.

Draco raised a hand to his cheek and gingerly wiped away the dog slobber, trying not to think about it. He met Harry’s eyes again, and this time, there was the glimmer of a question there.

Draco decided it was better to rip off the band aid.

“I left.” He told him. Such simple words, confessing so much. “I have nowhere else to go.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Draco put his bags down in the spare room, barely seeing the sparse furnishings. Harry hadn’t reacted to his confession with anything but a pause and a brief nod, walking up to the gate and opening it for him, then leaving again without a word. Draco tried not to feel too relieved or hurt by it. Harry would still be harbouring resentment and doubt. But the fact that he hadn’t turned Draco away was a lifeline to him. He sat on the bed, head hanging, but the tightness in his chest lessening a bit.

It felt good to be somewhere safe; a haven.

 He slowly unpacked his bags. Harry hadn’t said anything, but Draco knew it would be a terrible assumption to move into the room he slept in. He still didn’t know for certain if Harry had let him in simply because they had had a friendship of sorts at one point and was too noble to turn him away, or if there was any chance of forgiveness. Either way, he was unspeakably grateful that somehow he had gained a friend in someone such as Harry, who would invite him into his home even after everything he had done…

Draco found his hands clenching the fabric of a pair of trousers he was unpacking, making his fingers look emaciated, the thin strings of his muscles betraying how weak he was, how close he was to falling apart. He pulled himself together a finished putting the clothes he’d brought into the chest of drawers Harry must have bought for this room. He very carefully unpacked the Chinese clay tea set and put it on its surface, which was eye at height for him. He would have been lying if he didn’t hope Harry might see it there.

He didn’t go back downstairs until he had to, a cowardly act, but he was still far too unsure about how to proceed. It was an unfamiliar state for Draco, who couldn’t recall a time when he didn’t know exactly what to say or do, or exactly what he wanted. Although he did know the answer to the last, he had no idea how to get it, or if he deserved it. But eventually he did descend, and in doing so, he noticed a little changes to the house. New coats of paint on the window sills, one of the stairs which had a large crack in the grain had been replaced and now stood out. The house smelled slightly of wood smoke too, so Harry must have used to fire place. There was also the tell-tale signs of dog hair in the corners and stuck to the carpeting.

He saw Harry was at the stove cooking, and though he desperately wanted just to touch him, re-enact the intimacy he had smashed to pieces months before, he knew he couldn’t. There was still too much distance.

 But Harry spoke;

“Dinner will be ready in ten or so.” He said, then added sounding a bit stilted. “You can set the table, if you like.”

Draco stood gawping like an idiot for a moment before his feet moved. As he came into the kitchen proper, he saw there a small round wooden table, with two wooden chairs to match. He slowed as he walked past it. When he reached for the drawer where he remembered the cutlery being, Harry shook his head and Draco pulled his hand away like it had been stung.

“Not there anymore. In the cupboard to your left.”

Draco found the cutlery in its new spot, and took out the necessary implements feeling completely out of place. It was a horrible sensation, to be with Harry, with whom he had always felt the most normal and authentic, yet here he was doing everything mannequin stiff. He hated himself for it. But Harry seemed not to notice. Draco sat down on one of the chairs and waited, stealing glances at Harry’s back. In spite of everything, just seeing that familiar, strong set of his shoulders was comfort. When every moment felt like he was sitting on needles, being able to sight Harry was a still point in the chaos of his life at present.

He surprised Draco by talking.

“The table and chairs are from Bathilda. I asked her where I could get something like them and she told me I could have hers, since she doesn’t use them anymore.” He spoke in a casual way, betraying nothing.

“That was kind of her.” Draco responded.

 Harry nodded at that. “She is kind.”

Harry put the plates out and Draco didn’t look at him. While Harry chewed through his meal, Draco barely saw it, pushing food around on his plate. Harry said nothing about it however, and when he was done, took both their plates without comment. He put them by the sink then went to the fridge and pulled out two brown bottles. He walked over to the kitchen door, which had stood open the entire time, leaving Draco to follow.

 Harry was seated on the deck chairs he had bought, staring out into the night, one bottle in hand. The other rested on the arm of the empty chair. Draco sat down and gingerly took the bottle near his chair, seeing that the label claimed it to be beer. Draco had never drank beer, since it his family had considered it to be crass, especially drunk from the bottle. But since he had thrown all that away, he didn’t see any reason he couldn’t drink it anymore.

Taking a swig, he immediately gagged.

“That is awful.” He muttered, still retching slightly at the bitter after taste that stuck to his tongue.

Harry smiled minutely. “It can grow on you.”

“I doubt it.” Draco sighed. Some things probably wouldn’t ever change.

The silence stretched between them, until Harry started to scratch at a chip in the arm of his chair, spoke.

“Draco, are you going to tell me about it?” he asked quietly.

Draco froze. He _wanted_ to tell him, to say it all, to purge his brain of the story. But he was afraid. Then again, what did he have left to lose? Suddenly the feeling of desolation he had been hiding from himself for days hit him in a wave. He leaned forward and clenched his hands between his legs to keep them from shaking, observing once again how the tension caused them to look ugly and talon like, his bones showing plainly through his flesh.

“Blaise.” Draco started. “Blaise happened.”

Harry only looked at him, face blank.

“I’ll try to keep this brief. Blaise, as it turns out, has been harbouring a secret burning passion for me for quite some time.” Draco chuckled darkly. “The culmination of which _you_ were present for. When I told him no uncertain terms that if he ever came near me again, I would make his life hell, he fled. But I suppose it only gave him a chance to revenge himself on me in the most cliché way possible; he told my father. After what you said to me when you...”Draco faltered. “Hit him, he knew what was happening between us. He told him. My father, in a rather upset state, came to see me at the school, demanding I deny everything.”

Draco was too cowardly to look Harry in the eye then. Instead he leaned back and tried to make his muscles relax some.

“I told him the truth.” He drew breath to carry on but was stopped by the memory of his father, incandescent with rage, all but throwing him against his dorm room wall and forcing him to pack his things, before telling him in no uncertain terms that exams be damned he was leaving with him that night. He remembered feeling shaky and terrified, like a dog that had been beaten.

“It was, as you can imagine, horrible. No, _worse_. He dragged me to the manor and forced me to write my exams from there, refusing to allow to me any outside contact. He cut off all my communications, the only person I saw was Eustace, who brought me meals. Not even my mother came to me.” he said this with an involuntary shudder.

“ He only came to see me once; he told me that my internship would start immediately following my exams, and my correspondence studying would be under his strict supervision. He threatened me, telling me if I ever thought to tell anyone else about my aberration, he would disinherit me, leave me penniless and refuse to acknowledge me as his son for the remainder of his days.”

Draco ran a hand through his hair and was happy to see it wasn’t shaking. Saying it all aloud made it easier. Rather out than in, as the saying went.

“I think, that it was then that I finally mustered enough courage to leave. I packed my bags that night, and now I’m here.”

Draco did risk a glance at Harry then, but it was dark and though he thought Harry’s eyes might be shining slightly he didn’t analyse it. He had to say the rest before he lost his rhythm and nerve.

“The things you said to me Harry… they were hard to hear. But I am glad to whatever god put you in my path because I do not think if I hadn’t had met you, anyone else in my life could have said those things to me. The difficult things. After you left…” Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. “Oh lord, it hurt. But I was determined to make you a liar. I refused to let your words have application to my life, even though they did quite accurately. I was afraid. And looking back I think I have been afraid for a long time. I thought it as pride, dignity, expectations, even noble…but no, it was fear.”

“School was harder, but I was still comforting myself with the story that you had been the one to leave and not me. It helped me keep away from you. But then there was that day, when you found me…I thought I would break then.” He heard his voice grow hoarse, with emotion or simply from all the talking he didn’t know. “It was soon after that that Blaise worked his little act of terrorism on me.”

Draco shrugged then. “In the face of my father’s outrage, I couldn’t lie anymore. I just saw his expression, demanding I deny the accusation, as if he was hoping for it, but so terrified it would be true…and I saw the future he had in his head for me. And I suddenly, violently didn’t want it.”

‘So here I am. All of have in the world is in the bags I brought with me, and a car with cant navigate potholes worth a damn.”

Draco sat back, feeling with enormity of his words. He was a lost boy now, no home, no worldly goods, nothing to his name but some clothes and a car, which would likely be repossessed as he doubted his father would suffer him to keep it.

Lucius would find any way he could to punish him, his father was vindictive that way. He acknowledged it dispassionately. The knowledge that he had gone from having _everything_ to having _nothing_ didn’t sting as much as it had at first, in fact, it hardly stung at all. But the entire ordeal had scarred him and he wasn’t sure how to heal. And that was why, in the middle of the storm, he sought out the only light there was; he had run to Harry, the only safe harbour he had ever known. Harry, who had only loved him so much that he couldn’t stand to live by his side as a lie. He closed his eyes at that thought. When he really considered the level of his stupidity, it was humiliating.

Harry however still hadn’t said a word. This would be the moment when Harry could tell Draco to leave, or tell him that while he was his friend, he couldn’t forgive him. Draco already suspected this would be the case, but the stinging nettle of hoping prickled at his insides. So he waited, on the precipice.

Harry wasn’t looking at him anymore, but staring out into the dark. There were small sounds coming up from the grass and bush but a blessed absence of anything urban. Eventually he stood up and walked the small distance to Draco’s chair.

“Alright.” He said simply.

Draco risked looking up at his face. Harry was looking at him, and Draco saw his sympathy and understanding, but the shadow of hurt too. He flinched in spite of such a gentle expression, he felt it like a slap.  The last thing he deserved now was Harry’s good will.

“Would you prefer me to leave?” he asked softly, dreading the answer. But he saw Harry face drop a little when he said it.

“No, I don’t. I just need…time. But I don’t want you to leave.” he answered softly.

Draco nodded and looked away. “Thank you.”

“You are always welcome here, Draco.” Draco twitched slightly at hearing his name. He opened his mouth to reply but Harry had walked back in. Draco sat watching the night for a time before retreating to his room.

Now that he was here, and he knew Harry wasn’t going to kick him out, he could find a measure of relief. He sank down onto the bed staring at the curtains. They were made of a rough linen weave, in an off white. He had put so much time into choosing different curtains for each room, that would suit the various spaces within. Thinking back to that time was painful, but Draco let himself be punished by it, reminding himself of all that he had thrown away. Harry may not have turned him from his door, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive him. Draco knew _he_ wouldn’t have. Having a bed to sleep in was a small comfort in that moment, but it was quite literally all he had.

The feeling that washed over him then was despairing, and he couldn’t find the will to change himself for sleep. He simply kicked off his shoes, turned off his bedside light, pulled the covers over his fully dressed form and lay down, not feeling as if he could sleep but unable to do anything else.

Consciousness must have slipped away at some point however, because a sound woke him. The room was dark but he heard the creak of wooden floor boards, the soft heavy steps making their way across the floor. He didn’t turn as the covers were pulled aside and the mattress dipped with Harry’s weight as he climbed in behind Draco. The covers were pulled back again, and Draco felt the warmth of Harry’s chest against his back, his knees slotting in behind Draco’s, mirroring his posture and wrapping around him. They lay in the same spooning position they had adopted many times before, as Harry’s body was slightly longer than Draco. Harry’s arm came up over his waist and chest, pulling him tight.

Draco’s eyes were clenched shut and his body taught, inexplicably torn between shame and longing. But Harry’s arm didn’t loosen and eventually Draco let his body melt against the one behind him, as he so desperately wanted to, selfishly clinging to it’s offered comfort. The emotions he’d been pushing away were threatening to overwhelm him in the harbour of Harry’s embrace. He jerked as a withheld sob wracked his body, just once. Harry held him tighter.

“I’m so, so sorry.” Harry said, his breath making a small circle of heat through Draco’s shirt.

Draco wanted to tell Harry he couldn’t, shouldn’t be sorry, that he was the one with apologies to make, but his throat was closed. He shook his head against the pillow instead, and pulled Harry’s arm closer against him, their fingers threading. Draco’s held so tight that it hurt but neither one of them pulled away. All the poison of the last months came to surface, including the casual torture of being confined to his room for weeks, meals brought to him, his only contact being a sympathetic but mute butler. All the nights his father had come to his door only to hurl abuse and threats.

 Draco to convey all the unsaid things in that link, how _glad_ he was that Harry was there, how much he had missed his touch, his presence, how much he regretted everything that had passed between them that these things had had to happen before he could finally stop being a coward. He was glad Harry couldn’t see his face, even though ultimately, if anyone was going to be witness to his weakness, it could only be Harry Potter.

Harry held him until the sobs stopped, and then continued to hold him. He kissed his neck and Draco breathed out, on the other side of the storm, feeling purged and exhausted but so much better. He carefully levered himself up, feeling Harry’s arm fall away. He couldn’t face him, but turned his head to say he was going to shower. Harry nodded and lay back down again, while Draco collected what he needed.

The shower seemed to clear his head from the cobwebby feeling that crying had left behind. He hated to be weak, it didn’t come naturally to him to be vulnerable, no matter how much Harry had seen it.  But he saw it for what it was, a rather damaging lesson taught to him from a young age, part of the bricks that created his foundation. If he acknowledged it, he saw that the same counted for a lot of what made up his character. Take that away, and what was left?

The only thing that was left, was Harry, and the time they had spent together. There hadn’t been any other course of action really, then return to him, a true north. He returned to the room, carrying his clothes, towel wrapped around his waist. When he walked through the door Harry had turned on the lamp was already looking for him, then his mouth gaped in shock. He was looking at Draco’s side, where a large purple bruise spanned across his ribs. Draco followed his eyes to see what had caught him, then he gasped softly. In spite of it being a truly awful sight, he had forgotten it, as it feel like a numb sort of pain, felt from a distance away. His eyes found Harry’s again.

“My father.” He told him in explanation. “It was the final straw I suppose. On that last night, when he came to me, he felt the need to punctuate is words. I think I was more surprised than hurt.”

 

Harry’s face was frowning darkly. He gestured for Draco to come closer and he did, so Harry could lightly brush his fingers over the mark. It was as wide as a fist and a perfect circle on his pale skin. Draco hissed when Harry touched the centre where his father’s ring would have broken the skin if he hadn’t been wearing a shirt at the time.

“Sit down. I have some arnica in the bathroom.” Harry told him and left. Draco willingly did so, and Harry returned with a small tube. The cool gel felt sharp against his still warm skin, but Harry was careful. When he was done Draco lowered his arm once more, not trying to hide the mark, just resigned to it. There were no secrets anymore.

“The Dursley’s were shit but they never beat me.“ Harry said.

Draco shrugged. “My father has never beat me either. This was the first time.”

“The only time.” Harry growled, his voice sounding vicious.

Draco left it at that. They lay together once more, and Draco fell asleep quickly this time, Harry keeping his demons at bay.


	18. 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second last chapter guys :)

**_ Draco _ **

Draco woke up alone in the bed, but it didn’t worry him. Without deserving it, he had Harry’s unwavering loyalty and devotion, so he knew he wasn’t abandoned. But he wanted to make sure he earned it this time. For almost the entire duration of their relationship over the last 2 years, Draco had been the one demanding and taking and asking for sacrifice, over and over, and Harry had given every time without reserve. Until when he couldn’t bring himself to be an apart of Draco’s future hell of a life. Thank goodness he had reached that point, because Draco he would never have found a way to breach his cowardice were it not for Harry’s influence in his life. They had shaped each other, though Draco had been ignoring or denying it up until recently. And the night of his birthday party had suddenly split his life into two possibilities, suddenly he was forced to choose.

So he had, eventually. Chose _himself_ , chose his happiness, and chose uncertainty and authenticity rather than the lie. He personally felt it was the first time he had done anything worthy of Harry’s loyalty.

He sat up, blinking. The light was already high, and he suspected that it was rather late morning. Unusual for him, but life was all about rule breaking lately. He dragged on some clean pants, since he had fallen asleep with only a towel on, and went to find Harry.

Who was, of course, making breakfast.

Draco watched him while he worked. He had the happy realisation that the act of observing Harry from behind while he made food or breakfast for them both was so familiar, so many times had they acted out such a scene in their time together. Except it had never been an act, one of the few things in his life that wasn’t. It was comfortable and lovely and so familiar it filled Draco’s chest with warmth, and he was content to simply walk up next to him and lean on the counter, as he had always done.

Then he recalled the things he had said to Harry about ‘domestic bliss’ and felt angry at himself for making something so lovely sound like something worthless. 

“I could make tea. “He offered in greeting.

Harry’s eyes blinked twice. “You could, except I don’t have any tea things.” He replied, looking abashed.

Draco winced at the implication, but took it as he knew he deserved it. He could hardly fault Harry for trying to move on and heal. Yet, he tested the waters; “I…do. I could fetch them…?” he offered cautiously. When Harry turned to him with a relieved smile, Draco returned it.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Draco returned quickly with the clay tea set, and set it down carefully on the countertop, observing Harry’s curious surprise.

“You brought that with you.” he stated simply.

“Of course. I don’t have many things to call my own, and what I do have is precious. Though this would have been precious regardless.” He answered, determinedly _not_ looking at Harry. He put on the electric kettle to boil, so that he could add hot water to the loose tea inside.

“I never thanked you, for this.” He tried to say, but found his throat closing once more.

  _Still an emotional mess then._ He thought to himself, harshly _._

But he moved past Harry, to the fridge, picking up a magnet shaped like a wizard’s hat. It was the poem Harry had given him. He had kept it folded, with him at all times since the day he received it. The paper had become soft with being handled so much, and the creases would tear if anyone were to pull them, so Draco unfolded it with deft fingers and carefully laid it flat against the door, pinning it in place. Harry stood beside him, and soon his fingers were lacing through Draco’s. His other hand was turning his head to face him, rough fingers against his skin.

Harry kissed him, the brief press of lips against his.

“Welcome home.”

 

**_ Harry _ **

**__ **

It was six days before Lucius found Grimmauld Place.

Draco was still healing, still finding his way on wobbly legs. His mountainous decision left him adrift in a world in which he had no trappings or possessions or connections, and his only tether was Harry. Harry was happy to be patient, to let him come towards himself, to build himself anew, as he knew he must.

Harry’s resolve to erase Draco Malfoy from his life had pretty much dissolved the moment he saw his lean form at his gate, still looking beautiful but his weakness barely held in check. Even though he was bravely trying to save face, Harry was unable to turn him away when he admitted he had actually left.

Harry told himself that he was merely curious, that he was helping out his friend, even if they had parted badly. But it was a pathetic lie, because the fact was that as soon as Draco had arrived at his door, there was no way Harry _wasn’t_ going to have him back.

He listened to Draco’s story with as much objectivity as he could, but the soaring happiness in him couldn’t faked. Yet, he still saw Draco’s reserve, and he was still too burned to let himself believe that Draco wouldn’t break his heart _again_. But lying in his bed that night, trying to sleep, his mind kept turning Draco’s words over in his head, and eventually he felt like an. Draco had come _home_ , and come home to _him_. He had forsaken everything so that he could live an honest life. And he still wanted Harry. That was good enough.

Draco’s cause for misery became clearer when he saw the bruise marring his pale flesh. Though he catalogued it under the many reasons that he had finally taken the initiative to leave, Harry felt a white hot anger when he thought about it. He contented himself with caring for it every day, being familiar with cuts and bruises.

He felt a renewed empathy for Draco’s fear that had dogged them through the last two years. Not only had his father reacted as he had predicted, it was worse. Draco didn’t go into it, but Harry knew what privation and mental abuse looked like, having seen it in the mirror many times. Draco still jumped a little sometimes, if he closed a door too hard or came up behind him too suddenly. He soothed him with murmured words and soft touch, and at night he held him through the faceless nightmares that dogged his sleep.

 They had moved into the main bedroom, and it felt right to Harry. This was Draco’s home now, and wherever he was, Harry would be with him. That much was unspoken now.

Snuffles was always around now too, and had made it his personal mission to get as much into Draco’s personal bubble as was possible before Draco hit him with a book. The dog bore this without comment, or bark, and weaselled himself further and further into Draco’s exasperated graces, until one day Harry came in to find Draco reading on the couch, while Snuffles dozed beside him, head in his lap. Draco had caught his eye then,

“This animal is ruining this couch.” He commented, acting as if nothing was amiss.

Harry shrugged. “We can get a new one. The couch, not the dog.”

Draco sighed, sounding more like himself. “It will have to be a large one then.”

“Sure, love.” Harry answered, picking up the secateurs and walking out again, grinning to himself.

 

-8-

However, six days since Draco had come home, Lucius Malfoy arrived on his doors step.

 It was mid-morning, and Harry was replacing a window fastening that had rusted shut too badly to be fixed. He had just removed the frame when the doorbell went, so he set it down carefully, since he knew Draco had only just woken up and was upstairs in the shower. He slept in more these days, but Harry suspected he just needed to be able to do that for a while, so most mornings, he left him to lie in.

When he opened the door, and was met by a tall man, who, while not taller than him, had a presence that implied importance and power. His suit was stiff and looked expensive, his hair white blond like Draco’s, and though his jaw was wider and shoulders more sloped it was unmissable who it was. Harry had only seen Lucius Malfoy from a distance before, but he wasn’t the sort of person you could mistake for someone else.

 Still he stood with a hand in his pocket, affecting a disdainful nonchalance that was so characteristic of Draco in the days when they had been enemies, Harry blinked. It was identical, down to the expression and the way he leaned slightly on one leg.

“Good morning. I am Lucius Malfoy.” He introduced himself coldly.

Harry met his eyes without a trace of intimidation. “I know who you are.” He answered in a similar tone.

“And I know who _you_ are, young man.” Lucius’ voice immediately took on an acid tone.

“Good, that saves time.” Harry replied.

Lucius blinked and seemed slightly taken aback. He rallied quickly.

“It is polite to invite guests in.”

Harry crossed his arms and gave him a disdainful look. “Firstly, there is no way in hell you’re my guest. And secondly, I’ve already got one Malfoy in this house, and I’m full up.”

Lucius practically seethed. “Well, since it is your ‘guest’ I am here to see, perhaps you could find the common courtesy to fetch him to me.”

Harry narrowed his eyes and opened the door wider and stepped out onto the veranda. He was taller than Lucius by a head and the anger boiling inside him made it very easy to tower over the older man.

“I will not ‘fetch him to you’ as he isn’t a dog, you pompous fat-headed prick.” He hissed between gritted teeth and he forced Lucius to step and down onto the lower step. Lucius for his part began to lose his officious expression and was looking at Harry with a mixture of surprised fear and anger. “You are on private property, and I know that the _brilliant legal mind that you are_ will know that if I say to _fuck off_ , you should, before I do something I probably won’t regret very much at all.”

Lucius blanched, making his pale face look pasty and sick, but still managed a sneer. “Are you threatening me? How very typical, very low-brow.”

Harry twitched with barely suppressed rage. In his mind’s eye, he kept seeing the bruise on Draco’s ribs, his shrugging at it.

 “You weren’t too good to stoop to being ‘low-brow’ not so long ago were you?” Lucius face really did go slack now, realising what Harry was referring to, and Harry pushed him hard on the shoulder forcing him down to the last step.

“Harry, stop.” Draco’s voice came from the door. Harry turned his head, but kept his eyes on Lucius.

“Well you know, Draco, he is trespassing. And he is also, incredibly unwelcome. Technically, I can do whatever I want.” He answered, watching Lucius hear his every word. But he felt Draco’s hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, I know you’re angry. But I can deal with him. Please?” Draco asked, and when Harry did turn to see him Draco face was open, guileless. His hand slid down to grasp Harry’s and Harry eventually squeeze back.

“Fine. But I’m not going.” He replied, unwilling to leave Draco alone with the man. Although was acting calm, he could feel the slight tremble in his hand when he touched him. He wouldn’t leave.

“Thanks, love.” Draco answered, and Harry saw Lucius flinch. _Well done, Draco_ , he smirked.

The younger blonde turned to the older.

“Father, what you want?” he asked in clipped tones.

Lucius recovered his earlier composure, and tried to carry on as if Harry wasn’t there. Harry contented himself with leaning against the door jamb. To his secret delight, Snuffles came out too, and went to sit at the top step beside Draco. He didn’t growl or bark, but fixed Lucius with a long stare. Draco reached down to rub his head.

“Draco, you should return home.” He told him.

Draco only shook his head. “No.”

This didn’t satisfy Lucius.

“Do not be a child, Draco. This is unbecoming. If you return now, I can still do damage control. I can cover up everything, even your week spent here with _that_.” He flicked his eyes towards Harry. “Perhaps I was too harsh in my ministrations of you, but this has to stop now. We can begin again…”

“No, Father.” Draco said again, in the same neutral tone.

Lucius lost his careful composure now. “What do you mean, to simply tell me ‘no’.” he hissed angrily.

“I mean that I don’t want to come back. I do not want to live in the manor. And I don’t want to work for you, or for any legal firm, for that matter. And I don’t want to smooth anything over, or lie. You cannot accept that I don’t want these things.”

“Fine.“ Lucius said through clenched teeth. “You don’t have to work for the firm. Go and study if you want to…”

“And I don’t want to pretend I’m not gay. And that is something I know you will never accept.”

Harry knew that he alone could have detected the tiny quaver in his voice when he said that, and thus knew how much courage it had taken to say it. He wanted to reach out to touch him, but knew that now was not the time. He had to do this on his own.

Lucius was clenching his fists. “You are not _homosexual_. This is simply a phase, something that…some young men go through.”

“It isn’t. And I am not going to waste time explaining it to a narrow minded totalitarian like you. Take everything away, all the money, the car, and my accounts. Take it all, but it won’t make me come running back to you begging you to take me in. It won’t convince me to change my mind about what I am. And while it is rather unfortunate that you can’t accept it, it is no longer the end of my world that you don’t.”

“It’s _repulsive_ , and _unnatural_ -“Lucius spoke as if he was trying not to vomit.

“It doesn’t matter what you think. I’m done being your puppet, your prized bull and your perfect heir. Do what you have to, lie to whomever you need to, because I know you will; you can’t possibly have a gay son. But it won’t change a thing.”

Lucius took a step towards his son then, and said in a low tone. “I will take it _all_ , you ungrateful, pathetic waste of a son. And I will make sure that people _know_ …” he started but Draco held up his hand.

“You may tell the world; I am not hiding anymore. However, if you try to besmirch my name with lies, in an effort to have some sort of petty revenge on me and thus crippling any future I might carve for myself, I am warning you now. I have taken photos of the mark you left on me. I have catalogued how long it has taken to heal and documented exactly how it came about, not to mention your crude witch hunting methods to try and force me to deny my sexuality.” Draco dropped his hands, his voice as cold as ice. “Abuse had many forms, and I doubt that you would want your reputation to be sullied further, on my account.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. As you taught me how to be ruthless and clever, and not everything you taught me has been useless.” Draco replied.

Lucius knew he was out manoeuvred. Possibly one of the only times in his adult life it had ever happened. He glared at his son for a long moment and turned and spat on the ground.  Then he sent his loathing look Harry’s way.

“If you ever seek me out, I will have you dealt with.“ He threatened darkly.

“Believe me, you don’t have to worry about that.” Harry replied and a jolly tone, mocking his efforts at being frightening. He was feeling rather smug. Lucius spun on his heel and walked back his oversized Buick without another word.

When the last sounds of his car struggling over the gravel died away, Harry walked up to Draco. He carefully took his hand to find it was trembling. Through the entire exchange Draco had come across and confident and unafraid, but Harry was allowed to see exactly how much act of bravery had cost him. They sank down to sit and Snuffles used the opportunity to put his head in Harry’s lap.

“Nicely done.” Harry quipped, hoping to relax his lover who was now very obviously pale. “Need some tea?”

Draco let out a small laugh. “ _God yes_. But I just want to sit for a minute.” He shuddered out a breath. “That was awful.”

Harry thought back on the things his father had said and saw red again. “You should have let me hit him.”

Draco smiled but shook his head. “No, it would have been justified and very satisfying, but ultimately he would have used it against me. I know how he thinks. This way, I have him in a bind. He cannot outright hurt me without hurting his reputation. And reputation is everything to him.” He rubbed Snuffles head absently, still calming. “I wasn’t expecting him to come here, but I suppose he just cannot conceive that I am not the son he raised.”

Harry humphed, not really caring what Lucius thought. “He is a prick.”

“So I heard you call him.” Draco replied without rancour. Harry turned to him and Draco was leaning his head on his shoulder, letting his eyes close. Harry hollowed out his neck so that he fit better and put an arm around his lover’s shoulders, as if he could protect him.

“You know that you’re home, don’t you?” he asked, rubbing a circle on his arm.

“Yes.” Draco sighed out, and Harry heard the relieved happiness in it.

“Good. Let’s go make tea.” But Draco’s hand came out to rest on his leg, stopping him.

“Harry, I need to thank you. If you hadn’t let me come back, I wouldn’t have been able to turn him away today.” He said to him.

Harry let that sink in. It was true, but he certainly didn’t want Draco to feel indebted to him because of it.

“Where you are, is where I am. That’s all there is to it now.” He replied, hoping it would explain things.

Draco pulled away to look him in the eye. “And everything that entails?”

Harry met his eyes without reserve. “Yes.” He answered. “I can’t say I know everything that’s going to happen, and it’s probably going to be a bit complicated sometimes, but as long as…” he paused and rubbed his face, but forged on. “As long as were doing it together, this time.”

Draco held his leg tighter. “I won’t leave you again.” He promised.

Harry closed his eyes. Up until that second, he hadn’t realised how much he wanted to hear him say that. “Good. And I won’t leave you again.”

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some happy feels.
> 
> Also Draco being sassy, which I just can't resist.


	19. 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied smut. Feely smut.

Later than evening, Harry was putting salve on Draco’s bruise again. It had healed most of way, only a faint brown blemish now. Harry knew he didn’t really need to keep putting arnica on, but he wanted to. It helped both of them.

Harry was sitting beside Draco, leaning low to see the mark. In his mind, he could still see the livid purplish blue stain as wide as a hand spread over Draco’s ribs. Harry had suspected bruised ribs in the bargain. It must have hurt like blazes, but Draco hadn’t even remembered it until Harry had spotted it. Which was a testament to the state of his mind when he had arrived. Now though, he casually rested his arm on Harry head while he was bent low.

“My arm gets tired.” Draco mock complained.

“Humph, you need exercise, then.” Harry retorted but left his arm where it was while he worked.

“Perhaps I should go back to mixed martial arts.” Draco mused.

“Or you could help dig the garden sometime.”

“And take away your obvious pleasure in the task? That would be selfish.”

The banter was easy and relaxed them both. Harry finished and straightened, but Draco didn’t lower his arm, instead letting his fingers touch Harry’s hair.

Harry felt tingly at the touch. Though things had healed enough between them emotionally, physically they had ventured no further than holding each other at night, and that one, very virginal kiss. There seemed to be a barrier that neither of them were brave enough to breach. But Harry felt his own tension grow daily, watching Draco step out of the shower, his hair wet from washing, or even watching his elegant hands as they turned the pages of a book. There was a reason he was working so hard in the garden. He yearned to be touched again, and to touch in turn, but didn’t want to push Draco into something he wasn’t ready for. So he leaned slightly into his hand but didn’t reach out on his own.

“I couldn’t believe you cut your hair.” Draco said, he said while his fingers toyed with the locks. It had already grown a fair bit, no longer close to his scalp, but still thick and coarse.

Harry looked away. “I was trying to…” he started but trailed off

“Forget me.” Draco finished.

Harry said nothing. It had been a small act of petty revenge, as if it might purge him of thoughts he had wanted to forget.

“I don’t blame you, Harry. I really don’t. After everything...”

“Well, it didn’t work very well did it?’ Harry replied, fidgeting with a fold in the bed spread.

“What didn’t?” Draco asked, confused.

“Forgetting you. I spent so much time _not_ thinking about you, _not_ sleeping in our bed, _not_ making tea, cutting my damned hair, and as soon as you show up at my door is still rolled over like a dog.” Harry reflected, perhaps a touch bitterly because Draco’s hand dropped. Harry caught the distressed expression and hurried to amend his words. “I didn’t mean it the way that sounded. Shit. I just meant that I tried everything I could think of. I really did, but I think that somewhere I didn’t really want to forget you at all. I just didn’t want to hurt so much.” Harry sighed and grasped Draco’s leg apologetically.

Draco nodded, “I understand.” He looked guilty. “About Blaise…”

Now Harry felt confused. “Blaise? That prick? What about him?”

Draco seemed a little awkward now. “I know you saw him kissing me, and gave him a broken nose for the effort.”

Harry recalled the night clearly, though he had been slightly drunk. The instant rage he felt that anyone would touch Draco in such an intimate way was still there, tucked away. But knew it could easily be wakened again. He had only realised how possessive he felt over him that night.

“I hoped it healed crooked.”  He offered without remorse. Draco smirked.

“Perhaps it did, I wouldn’t know. I never bothered to speak to him again, and he certainly was too much of a coward to face me.” Draco breathed in as if to steel himself. “But I recall your words that night. What you said to him, I mean.”

Harry looked searchingly at Draco, who was still staring at the wall. He was leaning backwards on his arms on the bed spread, his long body curved gracefully. Harry let his eyes look, for it seemed like a display that he was meant to appreciated.

 “I said a few things. Anything in specific you are talking about?” he probed.

Draco’s eyes darted to his. “You said, ‘ _he’s mine_.’”

Harry discovered he was holding his breath. “I did say that.”

Draco replied carefully now. “Did you mean it?”

Harry felt an animalistic feeling growing in his chest. “Yes. I still do.” And with Draco lying there in such a way, like he was waiting for Harry to show him how possessive he could be…

“Care to prove it?” Draco finally said softly.

Harry needed no further invitation. He leaned over Draco, covering him easily and snaking an arm around his lower back to prevent him from falling. But also to feel his body flush with his. They kissed clumsily, and Harry felt his need echoed in Draco when he raked his nails across Harry’s sides, returning the kiss whole heartedly.

“God, and here I’ve been waiting for you to be _ready_ …” Harry muttered with annoyance as he mouthed the soft area of skin on Draco’s neck.

He gasped but still managed to reply with a snide tone. “I’ve been _ready_ since that first day I saw you in the fucking garden.”

“I’ve _missed you_.” Harry told him fervently as they worked at removing the last few inconvenient article of clothing. Draco’s skin was as silky as ever, probably improved by their time apart. Draco’s hand wrapped around the back of his head while he sucked at the flesh on Draco’s neck, and he bit Harry’s shoulder in return. It was as if they simply couldn’t be close enough, taste enough.

“Draco,“ Harry shuddered as his lover straddled him as if they hadn’t been apart. He opened his eyes and looked at him, “I really missed you. Please don’t leave again.”

Draco looked at him with a mixture of shared pain, lust and love. “I won’t.” He promised.

Their kisses lasted long into the night.

 

-8-

It was another 3 days before Narcissa Malfoy found Grimmauld Place.

This time, Harry and Draco were sitting on the largest couch, drinking tea for breakfast as Harry was too lazy to cook. Snuffles had given up hope of sneaking leftovers and had passed out on the rug in front of the fire place. He sat up suddenly, ears pricked and soon lumbered his way out the kitchen door and around the house. By the time they heard what he had, the large animal was already at the gate, to meet a long baby blue Ferrari. Narcissa Malfoy however had clearly seen the ever enthusiastic Snuffles and had rethought her decision to get out. Harry and Draco watched from the window.

“It’s raining Malfoys.“ Harry commented acerbically.

“Witty.” Draco commented.

“I didn’t know Ferraris came in baby blue?” Harry said as Draco pulled away, making his way to the front door.

“She had it custom made. It’s the only one.“ Draco informed him. Harry raised an eyebrow. Even _he_ knew having a Ferrari custom made into an exclusive colour was extravagant.

“And all you got was a Lexus.” Harry threw back, following the blonde man. Draco didn’t comment but waved at him dismissively, opening the door.

As they walked out onto the landing, Narcissa saw them and waved. Harry came to stand beside Draco, arms crossed. Draco stood with his hands in his pockets, looking calculating.

“Your call?” Harry said. “Do you want me to stay?”

Draco turned to him with a look of surprise. “Of course. This is our house isn’t it?” he said.

Harry grinned and leaned close to kiss him, which Draco returned easily. “So it is.” He looked up and gave short, sharp whistle. Snuffles looked back at them, his lolling tongue wiping slobber on the shiny door of the sorts car. Harry tried not to snigger as Snuffles came bounding back to them.

“Come on you, I suppose you want breakfast.” Snuffles barked eagerly in reply.

When Harry returned from filling Snuffles’ bowl, Draco was leading his mother into the house. He caught Harry’s eye and sent him a look which told him to be cautious. Draco had said that his mother had been absent the entire duration of his house arrest. They truly had no idea if she had known about it and kept away, which would mean she had given his father permission to abuse their so, or if she hadn’t known. Draco no longer had a phone or laptop, and they didn’t have reception anyway, so there was no way for her to get into contact with him. They had been content let it lie for a while until they felt like returning to civilisation.

But now that she had found them instead, their avoidance was no longer effective. Harry shrugged internally. After Lucius had found the place, it was only matter of time.

Narcissa moved her way into the lounge slowly, looking completely at ease and taking in the house as she did, her eyes seeming to observe every detail. Eventually she met Harry’s gaze; she seemed immune to the cautious stares Harry and Draco gave her.

“It is lovely to meet you again Harry. Your home is beautiful.” She smiled warmly at him, and Harry felt off balance.

“Thanks. It belonged to my parents…” he started but stopped when Draco sent him a warning glance. Harry shrugged as if to say ‘ _fine._ ’ he turned back to her. “I can make some tea?”

“Tea would be much appreciated. It was a very long drive.” She replied and folded herself neatly onto the two seater couch, still looking around. Harry turned the kettle on, wondering why Draco still hadn’t spoken. “I am afraid we don’t have much. Some earl grey...” he started rifling through the tea supply.

“Chamomile, please. I know you must have it, as it is Draco’s favourite.” She replied casually. Harry paused, looking once again to Draco. But Draco was staring at his mother, expression unreadable. He was tense, Harry could see that much, more so than he had been with his father. He made a cup of the chamomile and brought it to her, unsweetened, leaving her to find the sugar bowl on the coffee table in front of her.

“Thank you, Harry.” She told him artlessly. “And please Draco, won’t you sit down?”

Harry felt awkward, standing between Draco’s mother and his lover. But eventually Draco did sit down and Harry took the invitation to sit beside him. Their hands found each other easily.

“Why are you here, mother?” Draco asked the exact same question he had asked his father, but his voice had far more emotion in it this time. It was clear he felt betrayed.

Narcissa, however, did not mewl or complain at his unfriendliness, but nodded and set her cup down neatly. “I understand you are feeling wary Draco.”

Harry felt Draco’s grip tighten. “Am I? Why could that be?”

Narcissa looked at her son with a look so full of motherly understanding even Draco relaxed a touch. “Draco, while you may not choose to believe me, I will tell you that the reason I have come here is to tell you the truth. _I didn’t know_.” She told him, and Harry couldn’t see any artifice in her expression.

Draco was not so easily swayed. “How could you _possibly_ not have _known_?” he bit back.

“I have spoken to your father.” She said to him, her face looking grave, her eyebrows pinched. “A few days ago, he came home in a very unpleasant state, I forced him to confess to me.”

“He must have suspected the answer you would give that night, Draco, when he went to confront you at school. And so, the day before, he surprised me with a trip away to Madagascar. I wasn’t terribly willing, but had no reason to say no, so I went. I wrote to you about it, but apparently you didn’t receive any letters from me. Or anyone. By the time I came back, you were gone. Eustace was the one who told me what had happened, what your father had done. After I confronted him and forced him to tell me exactly what had occurred, I found the address and came here.”

She finished her explanation neatly, but her face was remorseful. “Draco, I didn’t know.”

Draco looked down at their clasped hands and was quiet a long time. “Alright mother. I really have no more energy to give to the matter, so I’ll believe you. But it doesn’t explain why you are here now.”

Narcissa looked shocked at her son’s apathy but didn’t react to it. She went on smoothly. “Your father is a vindictive man. And he cannot stand being wrong or thwarted. He told me what he had decided, that you were no longer our son, and would be disinherited…” she paused and for the first time since she arrived, her façade of calm control cracked a little. “Draco, I want you to know that I understand how hard it was for you to stand up to him, to choose your own happiness in spite of everything we have both done to make sure you never strayed from any path but the one we chose for you. It must have been monumentally hard for you, and I am proud of you. I always have been, but I am now too. And anyone who asks me will know that.”

Harry saw Draco swallow but say nothing. She seemed to gather herself as she went on, her voice taking on a keener, sharper edge. “Your father was hasty in his petty revenge, I’m afraid. He forgets that he married me for my family money, and more than half of the wealth in our household is mine, in my name, Narcissa Black. The same can be said of the controlling shares of the firm. He was quite…unpleasant when I informed him that you would not be disinherited, or shamed in any way.”

Harry’s eyes widened. Once again Lucius had been outmanoeuvred. But Draco spoke then with concern.

“Mother, will he…hurt you?” he asked tentatively. She looked at him as if it was a ridiculous notion but her words stilled in her mouth. Realisation came to her face and made it pale. She covered her mouth, horror plain on her features as she stared at her son. Draco met her eyes steadily.

“It’s alright, mother. Harry took care of me.” He told her but it didn’t comfort her.

“ _I_ should have taken care of you. My son…” she closed her eyes, and Harry thought she looked ashamed. Then the look was replaced with one of anger, and Harry could recognise it well. “I will deal with him.” She said in a vicious tone. Draco shook his head.

“I already made sure it didn’t go any further. Don’t put yourself in harm’s way on my account.”

“Your father bears no fear from me, I assure you.” she spoke in disgust.

Draco looked uncertain then, glancing at Harry. Harry shrugged, understanding her sentiment, and understanding that once a Malfoy had decided to do a thing, that thing would be done.

She once again drew herself back from the emotions and composed herself. “In any case, that is not why I am here today, although I am exceedingly glad you told me. For such a legally minded man, he can incredibly _stupid_.” She hissed, then went on as if she hadn’t. “I am here to give you this.”

She pull out a carefully rolled, very thick envelope and held it out, which Draco took curiously. He was much calmer now, Harry noticed, now that his mother had proven she hadn’t abandoned him to torture at his father’s hands. The envelope was still sealed but had the Cambridge logo on its cover.

“I highly doubt those are anything but your acceptance papers. Rejection letters aren’t so thick.” She commented drily.

Draco didn’t open it, but stared at it. It was Harry who spoke.

“You applied?” he asked quietly. He recalled that evening eons ago, when he had all but forced Draco into applying to university for anything but law. “What did you apply for?”

“English diploma.” Draco replied just as quietly.

Harry’s heart soared. He had received his acceptance letters just before Draco had arrived, but had been debating spending a year off, as it was obvious Draco wouldn’t be able to go study without funds and would be too proud to let Harry pay for him. But now they could go together…

“I have already paid for your first year. So you have no choice but to attend. I hope you applied to English because you enjoy it, rather than out of some misguided joke.” His mother added into the quiet.

Draco’s hands were steady but his voice quavered. “Thank you mother.”

She looked at her son fondly. “I have also ensured that you will not be a penniless street urchin, as your father would have preferred. Although I see that this would not been the case anyway.” She said looking at Harry shrewdly. Her eyes said thank you, and Harry nodded in acceptance.

“I have a flat, in the city. We can stay there.“ He said as much to her as to Draco. Draco still hadn’t looked at him. Harry began to wonder if he wasn’t happy about all this after all, but Draco’s hand came up and grasped his once more.

“I…yes that will be perfect.” He answered, and Harry saw the joy in his face.

 Harry grinned back so widely his face stretched, suddenly over-joyed at the prospect of them attending university together. “Snuffles will love it.” He said

Draco face dropped into a scowl. “You can’t bring a dog to a flat.” He said flatly.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a _flat_ , Harry. Not a farm. And that creature is enormous. It would be cruel and it would stink.” Draco shook his head.

“Alright. Maybe we could get a cat though.” Draco groaned. Then his mother cleared her throat pointedly.

“I am glad you applied Draco. You’ve always been more of a poet at heart.” She commented.

Draco looked at her, his face now totally open. “Mother, don’t you mind? At the party, you warned me. You told me to be discreet, because people would be sure to gossip…”

She shook her head. “Yes, that is true. But I only told you that because I knew you wouldn’t want your father finding out. That is now no longer the issue, and unlike him, I don’t care that my son is gay. I only care that you are happy.”

“But the fallout from this will affect your reputation too.”

She inclined her head, acknowledging it. “Yes, it will. That in unavoidable. However, I would rather be known as a woman who puts her son first, than for her career as a society wife. And in any case, this has its own advantages. There are many more avenues I can pursue through this; gay rights for example. In fact, it might serve to help me build my reputation, albeit in a different direction. I was getting bored anyway.” She said, and Harry was sure that she would wink at them if it wasn’t such a low class thing to do.

Draco shook his head, but smiled a little. “Father will never support you.”

“He really doesn’t have a choice. Unless he wants us to appear divided as a couple. And he simply cannot afford to do that. He won’t be actively involved, but he won’t get in my way either.” She said, and Harry saw she must have a backbone of steel to see all the conflict and uphill her future was going to have because of this, and still face it without flinching.

“Ever the Malfoy.” Draco mused.

“Ever the _Black_.” She corrected. The put her tea cup aside with a decisive clink.

“Now that that’s out of the way, my tea has gone cold and I would like a tour of your house before I leave.”

Draco looked at her in consternation. “You’re leaving again so soon? It’s nearly night and the drive is at least three hours.” he asked.

 She looked mildly flustered, “Well, I was going to find a hotel on the way back…”

“We have a spare room, if you want it.” He offered without hesitation. She looked taken aback for a moment then her face grew soft and she cleared her throat again. “Yes, thank you that would be lovely.”

Narcissa Malfoy stayed for two nights. It seemed a bit strange at first, but she was an easy guest, making very little demands on them they couldn’t fulfil. Draco seemed brighter with her presence there, so that was enough for Harry, but she made easy conversation with them both and seemed genuinely interested in what life was like in Hexway. Though Harry didn’t know a lot about it, he told her it was calm and cut off and they were perfectly happy with that. She nodded and asked to be taking on a tour around the town. Draco took her out on his own, Harry sensing that some time with just each other was needed. By the time she had packed herself back into her car, she had developed an entirely affectionate relationship with Snuffles, even though Harry still had to hold him back at times. She kissed them both on the cheek, and hugged Draco with a real warmth. Draco still looked taken aback at this, but accepted it as best he could.

“I’ll see you at graduation.” She told them both, her tone was light but her eyes showed it was more of an instruction. She wouldn’t hear of them missing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love supportive parents :)


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here it is :) All done, thank you everyone who has read it and enjoyed it, and left comments to let me feel the love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna say hi, my tumblr is here :)  
> https://micaelavdb.tumblr.com/

**_Graduation_**.

 

Draco, naturally, had been nominated as valedictorian. But he, much to the chagrin of the headmistress, turned it down. It really was the last thing he wanted at this point and was more than happy to let it be given to Hermione Granger, who was the only pupil who matched Draco’s stellar academic record. However, he was asked to share it with her, and he agreed to on the condition that he wouldn’t have to say anything, so he was given the duty of handing over the graduation scroll.

Harry sat in his seat, watching both his friend and his lover on the stage. Hermione had given a fantastic speech, which he could vaguely remember but left him feeling happy and excited about the next phase of their lives. Draco’s face remained impassive though. He had made it clear that he was only attending at his mother’s behest. Harry turned to see Narcissa Malfoy, sitting in the front row, looking impeccably expensive in a cream suit. She had waved to him briefly before the ceremony began, as they had arrived a touch on the late side. Lucius wasn’t there, and Harry supposed that was a good thing, since he still wanted to hit the man.

Soon enough Harry’s row was called to the stage, and they filed on one at a time. Oddly enough, Harry was the last one in the line, as there were no surnames in his class that started with letters after P. When his turn came to step up, he felt a wriggle of anxiety in his belly, but set his sights on Draco and Hermione and tried to ignore everyone else.

“Harry Potter, Cricket Captain, Graduating with distinction.” Hermione called out and looked at him proudly as he walked towards her at the podium. Draco stood beside her, face still blank and Harry thought he must be getting very bored now. When he reached them, he held out of his hand for the scroll, and Draco gave it to him but didn’t let go. Harry looked at him curiously.

“So here we are, at the end, Potter.” He said.

Harry eyes darted to the crowd who were now somewhat more alert, since Draco still hadn’t given over the scroll. “Draco, what are you doing?” he said quietly.

Draco eyes locked onto his. “I told you, I would meet you there, at the end. And here we are.” He said, calmly. Even Hermione was looking a bit nervous now. Harry was feeling more and more skittish, too many eyes watching.

“Um…” he said.

Then Draco leaned forward and kissed him.

Harry stood stunned, unmoving. Then, as he always did, melted against Draco’s mouth. He pulled his arm closer to kiss him more deeply, for a moment forgetting the crowd and that they were on stage. Hermione gasped.

They broke away, Harry feeling his heart racing, adrenaline from kissing Draco so publicly giving him quite a rush.

“Didn’t take you for an exhibitionist, Malfoy.” He grinned.

Draco smirked, though his cheeks were flushed.

Oddly enough, the silence of the crowd gave way to some clapping and even some whistling, but the headmistress stepped up quickly squelching it, and hurried them both off the stage, looking harried. They didn’t care. They retreated to the backdrop of the stage.

“What was that about, then?” Harry asked, with a wild, bubbly feeling in his veins.

Draco shrugged. “I just thought I needed to make a point. Or maybe I just wanted to kiss you.”

“ _’There at the end’_?” Harry said. “What did that mean?”

Draco looked at him with slight exasperation. “Once you said me that I would be the end of you, and I said that I would meet you there, when it happened.”

The light dawned, “Oh.”

“And I felt like kissing you. In front of 150 people. _God_.” He added, and only then began to look mortified at the spectacle he had just performed. His hand covered his eyes.

Harry only laughed, and pulled him close again.

“It doesn’t feel like it though, does it?” Harry said into his neck.

“Like what?” Draco replied.

“The end.” Harry provided.

And after a pause, he smiled. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This si the only appropriate song for this ending, imo
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7SDDp8e_OQ&index=6&list=PLw0kxw5sdy4kZXm5HyOHR8XC74SI_nh0P  
> Find You - Zedd
> 
> do yourself a favour, put it on, turn it up really loud, and just enjoy.


End file.
